Desperate Times
by Striped Neko
Summary: Yuuri has been suffering in silence for months. Conrad has been helpless to act until now. When circumstances threaten to tear apart family bonds, will the rift that sets brother against brother ever be mended? ConYuu, slight one-sided Yozak/Yuuri.
1. Chapter 1

I Don't Own Kyou Kara Maou.

_Well, I think this fic is best served with warnings aplenty. First, this is not for the Wolfram lover in you. While discussing abusive relationships with a colleague today, I was nudged in my brain by this idea. So, first, let me just say upfront--if there's a bad guy in this fic, it's Wolfram. There, warning made. Second, I don't know how much humor I can inject into this one, and though I prefer comedy most of the time, I reckon this is just likely to be dark, dark, dark. Third, It's a CONYUU pairing, but give it a chance, because it may take a bit to get there. There is a touch of one-sided Yozak/Yuuri, but nothing to distract from the main pairing. Ok, those are the warnings, then. Otherwise, thanks for reading and giving this one a chance. I foresee much trouble ahead for our Conrad in this story--but I feel confident that he can render the exact assistance that Yuuri requires. Oh, one more thing--there is a double U Yuuri in this one, because it just felt right. So, into the depths we go--thanks again for reading._

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**Chapter One: Isolation**

It started on a public day—one of the days of the season when Yuuri, in his role as Maou sat in his office and listened to the complaints, concerns, and wishes of the general citizenry. The king did not need to look out the window to know that the line of people waiting to see him stretched through the halls, down the steps, and out the entrance gates of Blood Pledge Castle. Instead, he tried to sit up straighter in his chair and pay attention to the latest complaint—a farmer who felt the color of his neighbor's barn was a direct insult.

"If you're always looking at your neighbor's barn, I wonder how you have time to tend your own crops?" Yuuri mused aloud, resting his chin on his hand.

"Heika! You are so wise," Gunter cooed from somewhere behind his chair.

"Y—Yes, your majesty," the farmer said. "I will look to my own household first and try not to be so concerned with the affairs of others."

"Mind your own business," Gwendal said tersely, and showed the man to the door.

The next person in line was called for. Yuuri waited, wondering what it would be this time. _Oh, Heika! Help me! My Cat lost all her fur, it must be a curse!_ But as the time passed, and no one came in, Yuuri held his breath and made a wish.

"Conrad? Is that…everyone? Is no one else waiting?"

"A moment, please, Heika." Conrad called from the doorway. "It's all right, you can step this way." This last was directed to the door in a much kinder voice than even his normal kindly voice.

Yuuri frowned slightly as a slim young woman entered the room, hesitating just at the doorway. She seemed nervous, as though she might just turn around and bolt. Yuuri watched her. She was slight, not any taller than he was. She had light pink hair that was pulled back into a modest braid, and she wore the simple, neat clothes of a married Mazoku woman. Her eyes were green, he thought, though it was difficult to tell as her gaze darted around the room like a scared bird seeking some kind of escape. _Frightened bird_. Yuuri didn't know why he had that thought, but it was enough to fix his interest on the woman.

"Won't you come in?" he asked, politely. "I am happy to hear your concerns today."

The woman's eyes landed on him and widened. He realized he was still frowning a little, and maybe that's why she looked a little teary all of a sudden. She really was timid. However, she did advance another step further. Then her eyes landed on a scowling, arms-folded, eye-twitching, Gwendal. She let out an audible gasp and stepped back again. Why was she frightened of Yuuri's chief military advisor?

"I—I'm sorry. Please excuse me, Heika. Coming was a mistake. I didn't mean to bother you. I'm sorry. I won't take up your time. The woman turned to flee, but at Yuuri's nod, Conrad's gentle hand on her shoulder restrained her.

"My people are never a bother to me," Yuuri said soothingly, as though speaking to a scared, wounded animal. "I have all the time in the world to listen to you, Ma'am. And I would like to listen, and help if I can."

"Would—would you really try to help, Heika?"

"Yes." He answered simply. "But I have the feeling that you are here with a personal matter, right?"

She nodded, still held by Conrad's hand.

"Then let's talk about it privately, ok? Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

She shook her head quickly.

"Well, I'm famished. I missed lunch today. So, maybe you could come with me while I get something to eat? There are some snacks right through this door, and tea too, I bet—right, Gunter?"

"Of course, Heika! I have requested your favorites. The antechamber is prepared."

"Thanks. So, Ma'am—won't you step in here. It'll be just the two of us—and we can talk."

"O—ok." She said, taking a deep breath. She looked like she wanted to cross the room, but she glanced at Gwendal again and paled.

"Gwendal," Yuuri called, gaining his advisor's attention. "Can you come help me with my chair? I seem to be stuck…must be the carpet."

The general looked irritated and confused, but complied with the king's request. As soon as he was out of her path, the young woman hurried across the room to wait at the side-door. Yuuri let Gwendal pull his chair back and as he stood, he whispered, "Please stop frowning, Gwendal, you're only making things worse!"

Then he said in a louder voice, "Gunter, would you please take over for me for a little while? I will be back as soon as—your name, Ma'am?"

"Pepper. Pepper Bach."

"Very well, Mrs. Bach," and Yuuri knew that everyone in the room was aware it wasn't the woman's real name. "Gunter, I'll be back as soon as Mrs. Bach and I solve her problem, ok?"

"I would be honored to act as a substitute for your majesty, not that there could ever be any substitute for my wonderful Heika—whose nobility, kindness, and wisdom can never be paralleled—"

"Gunter," Gwendal said, sighing. "He's gone already. Let's just call the next one in."

"I do wonder what it's all about though," Conrad said softly, as he opened the door to admit another concerned citizen.

--O.o.O—

"I don't know where to begin," the woman said as Yuuri poured tea for them both.

"My mother always says that starting at the beginning is always the best way. Why don't you tell me your real name and we can start there?"

"Leah. My name is Leah, Heika."

"Well, my name is Yuuri—and now we can be friends, ok?"

The woman was blushing. "I couldn't call you by your name, Heika…"

Yuuri waved his hand impatiently. "I insist. So, Leah, won't you tell me what's troubling you?"

"I—I am married, Heika, but you probably guessed that." She hesitated a moment longer, then words seemed to rush from her mouth. "I don't know when it got so bad, or maybe it's always been this bad and I didn't see it. But, my husband loves me, I know that he does, he just can't…control his temper sometimes, and when I do things that make him angry, or when I upset him, he loses his temper and then he…"

She trailed off, looking at Yuuri, tears sliding down her cheeks.

"So, he hurts you?" Yuuri asked, as softly as he could.

She nodded.

"How long has this been going on?"

She told him, then, about the twenty years of marriage she had endured thus far. She explained her husband's triggers, and about losing their baby when he beat her severely. She told him about how things got worse after her parents died. She told him about how she lied to the neighbors, and how she learned to take a punch without crying. She told him about lying in bed, stiff with fear, because he had been out late drinking and she never knew if he was coming home angry—to beat her, or feeling amorous, which meant worse. And as she spoke, Yuuri felt a sick, sinking feeling in his stomach. Some part of him had known this would be her story from the moment she peeked into his office, but he still felt shocked. He wasn't qualified to help her understand what was going on inside of herself—he couldn't even understand why he thought the things he did in his own mind. But he understood what it felt like to be frightened, to be unable to sleep at night, to have to hide your pain and your bruises from the people who would want to help you but wouldn't be able to. He understood because Leah's story was, in a small way, his own.

"Leah, you never have to see him again. He is never going to hurt you again—I am going to protect you." Yuuri said, his vow soft but stern. "You are coming to live here in the castle, and work here. You will be safe."

"Oh! I cannot, your majesty. I can't!" She gasped out. "He would find me easily and then, well, I don't want to think what he'd do. Isn't there—I mean, I was hoping you could…fix him? You know, make him…loving again?"

"Even the Maou can't do that," Yuuri said sadly. "If a person changes, they have to do it themselves, and I think it must be a very hard thing to do, because people don't change very often, do they?"

Leah nodded, and Yuuri knew she was thinking the same thoughts he was—maybe they were the ones who needed to change.

"He'll kill me," she whispered.

"I won't let him."

"But…the General…the one in the green coat. My husband wears the same sort of uniform. He will easily find me here."

"Your husband is one of my soldiers? One of Gwendal's soldiers?" Yuuri couldn't explain why, but that knowledge enraged him. He had always thought of the soldiers as honorable men, sworn to protect himself and Shin Makoku—how could one of them ever…

He didn't finish the thought. He knew very well how a man of supposed honor could act in the way Leah's husband did.

"I will speak to Gwendal, and he will take care of your husband. Don't judge my General, please, by his appearance. Underneath his harsh exterior, he is kind and gentle. Look—he knitted this for me." Yuuri reached into his pocket and pulled out his love-worn, much cuddled neko-chan.

"It's a…raccoon? He knitted you a raccoon?"

"It's a kitty." Yuuri said, smiling. This must be how Gwendal felt whenever he mis-labeled the man's creations.

Suddenly, the young woman just burst into tears. She buried her face in her hands. Apologizing through her sobs. "Forgive me, Heika. I just didn't think anyone would ever help me."

Yuuri put his arm around her shoulder, not minding at all that his shoulder was getting wet. "I won't tell anyone about this, Leah, except for Gwendal, Gunter and Conrad—they will have to help us. Other than that, though, it will be a part of your past that you don't have to talk about until you want to, ok?"

"Thank you, Heika."

Yuuri rubbed her shoulders gently, still feeling a little sick to his stomach from the stress, but relieved as well. At least he would be able to help her. So, sitting on the small sofa in the little antechamber attached to his office, Yuuri comforted one of his subjects. The hug was innocent, friendly. But his heart still clenched in fear when the door opened, and Wolfram burst in.

"What do you think you're doing…Yuuri!" The blonde's voice was low, silky and dangerous.

--O.o.O—

Conrad didn't mind rearranging his schedule when Yuuri called a meeting between himself, Gunter and Gwendal. It was actually a rare occurrence—the young Maou didn't usually instigate such conferences, so it definitely had to be important. And, perhaps, it would allow him some insight into what Yuuri had been thinking lately. It seemed that in recent months the younger man had become more reticent—less likely to just say what he was thinking. In fact, he hadn't been acting much like the Yuuri Conrad had always known. Frankly, it troubled the older man. Conrad had patiently borne the distance, but he didn't like it.

Everyone summoned was already in Gwendal's office when Conrad arrived—except for Yuuri. He was about to ask the king's location when the young man himself arrived.

"Sorry for being late," Yuuri said, hurriedly. "I—I had to do some things. Are we all here? Ok."

"What is on your mind, Heika?" Gunter asked, smiling at the Maou.

"The woman who came to see me today, you remember? The one with the pink hair that I talked to alone…?"

"Yes, Heika?"

"She's married to a soldier, apparently one of your guards, Gwendal—that's why you scared her so much. Anyway, he's been beating her for a long time, and I've decided to intervene."

Conrad sat back in his chair, working hard to keep the surprise from showing on his face. Yuuri was speaking quietly, but his expression was earnest.

"Are you certain of this, Heika?" Gwendal asked, his scowl darkening.

"I believe her." The boy said, his voice suddenly harsh. "You didn't talk to her—I did. And I believe her! And we are going to help her. I made a promise!"

"Heika." Gunter's voice was gentle. "Of course we are going to help. Such behavior is shameful—reprehensible. What would you like us to do?"

Conrad reached out to put his hand on Yuuri's shoulder, but the young man flinched away from him and tried to cover his action by walking over to the bookshelves. He made a show of staring at Gwendal's animal collection.

"I want her to stay here, in the castle with us. And she needs a job, something not too strenuous because she's been pretty badly injured over a long period of time. Gisela has already looked her over, and right now she is in the upstairs maids' chambers. And I want you to do something about her husband, Gwendal. His name is Hinman."

Conrad watched his brother's face. The scowl etched itself deeper still. "He has always been one of my most trusted soldiers, Heika. It is hard for me to believe—"

"I knew you wouldn't believe me." Yuuri whispered.

No one spoke for a minute and Conrad stared, bewildered by the boy's words.

"I do believe you," Gwendal said carefully. "I was going to say that it is hard for me to believe that I misjudged his character so completely. I want to ask your forgiveness, Heika—not question your judgment."

"O—Oh." Yuuri blushed, his head tipping down so his bangs fell across his eyes. "I'm sorry, Gwendal. I'm really sorry."

"Heika, you never need apologize to your loyal subjects. I keep telling you that." Gunter said as though the outburst never happened.

"Would you like me to have Hinman executed, Heika?" Gwendal asked.

"What?" Yuuri looked almost…frightened, Conrad thought.

"If it is your will that he be executed, Heika, it shall be done. He certainly would never be able to hurt another woman."

"I…I…Execution? I don't know about that, Gwendal. I can't…I never wanted to be that kind of Maou."

"Perhaps Hinman could be sent to the far borders…until his fate is decided?" Conrad suggested.

"Yes. Yes, that's a good idea." Yuuri looked a bit relieved. "Ok, Gwendal, lose the man somewhere, ok? Send him so far away that he can't hurt Leah again."

"It will be done tonight. He is already on duty—has been all day."

"Don't let him go home first, though, ok? I don't want him to know that Leah has already escaped." Yuuri said this anxiously. He seemed to think it was very important.

"Of course, Heika. Anything else?"

"Just one more thing, Gwendal…a strange request, but I would appreciate it all the same."

"Yes, Heika?"

"Could…could I take one of your animals to Leah? She is all alone, really, and no one understands what she's been through. Sometimes it helps to have something to hug…" The boy's voice drifted off in a whisper.

Conrad didn't know why, but his heart was racing. Yuuri was saying something, directly to him he thought, but he couldn't figure it out. There was something important happening and he couldn't understand it. He remained calm, seated and listening attentively, however, his inner turmoil only increased when Gwendal selected a large, floppy-eared bunny (that looked more like a bear) and handed it to the Maou.

"Will this do, your majesty?" the man asked.

The boy clutched the stuffed animal to his chest. "Yes, it's perfect. Thank you, Gwendal. I hope she will find you a little less terrifying now. I told her, also, that I would keep this information between the four of us, ok?"

"Is that wise, Heika?" Conrad asked. "Are you sure you don't want to tell anyone else—the staff?"

"No, thank you, Conrad. I made a promise. I intend to keep it."

"Very well…Heika."

Conrad waited, hoping, but Yuuri only nodded to him. Yes, there was something definitely wrong with the Maou of Shin Makoku. It had been four months, two weeks, and three days since the young king had corrected Conrad Weller for not using his given name. Not that the soldier was keeping track.

--O.o.O—

Yozak Gurrier checked his packs one last time, making sure he had everything he needed before he set out on his next assignment. He scowled for a moment—he was missing his lucky ball gown. He couldn't leave without it. Turning from his horse, he headed from the stable back toward the castle. He met Yuri-Heika in the middle of the courtyard, and the king was carrying the spy's dress.

"Yo! Many thanks, Heika—I was just coming to get that."

"I…I heard from Gunter that you are taking a trip?"

"Yeah," Yozak laughed, winking at the king. "Not much of anything exciting, I'm afraid. But, you never know, I might get to wear that dress again, yet."

"Is it…is it a dangerous assignment, this time?"

"Nope. There happens to be two communiqués from Von Voltaire-kyo that require delivery to a little town down south. It also happens to be near my favorite fishing spot—so I offered to take them and thought I'd have a little time off. I'll be back in four days, though. No later than that."

"Yozak…" The king looked over his shoulder and swallowed.

The spy watched as the king fisted his hands in the pretty pink dress. "It has wrinkles enough, Heika…careful."

"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry! Yozak, I didn't mean to—"

"Hang on, Kiddo. I'm only teasing." Yozak held up his hands in a peaceful gesture. Why was the king acting so skittish? He couldn't really think that Yozak cared about the dress he was going to stuff into a saddlebag anyway? "What's the matter, Yuuri?"

"IreallyjustwantedtoaskifIcouldgowithyou!" The words exploded from the boy's mouth.

"I…Can you say that a little slower?"

"I…I just wanted to ask if I could go with you." The king repeated, this time understandably.

"You want to take a trip with me? But…it's going to be really boring. Do you even like fishing?"

"I don't know," the boy answered. "I've never been before. But, I would really like to get away. Just for a little while."

There was something in the kiddo's voice that disturbed Yozak greatly. It sounded like a wistful kind of desperation—and that didn't make sense at all, but he knew there was something going on. Yozak had much too much experience with rescuing damsels, soldiers, prisoners, and royalty in distress not to recognize a plea when he heard one.

"Well, it's ok with me, Kiddo. Let me just go talk to Conrad—he'll probably want to come along. I guess the royal brat will want to tag along, too, eh?"

This time, the spy's wink was not met with a smile. Instead, the king seemed to curl in on himself. "No!" he whispered harshly. "I don't want to go with anyone else, ok? Just us."

For a half a heartbeat, Yozak felt strangely awkward. Why would the king want to travel alone with him? He stamped down the warm feeling—this was not a love confession in the making, despite his sometimes fanciful dreams—this was an escape. He was certain now that something was desperately wrong with the Maou.

"Ok, Kiddo, but I can't just kidnap you. We have to tell someone."

The boy seemed to think that over for a moment. "Gunter," he said, firmly. "We can tell Gunter and get him to cover with something."

"Are you sure, Heika? Not Conrad?"

Yozak had no idea why he tortured himself like this sometimes. He knew very well that the first person in Heika's heart, despite his engagement to Wolfram, was and always would be Conrad. He knew it, so there was no need for him to continue to pick at the wound—prompting Yuuri to always show his feelings for the captain, thereby allowing Yozak to feel that exquisite longing pain of unrequited love.

Therefore, it was to his everlasting surprise that Yuuri shook his head violently. "I can't…No. Not Conrad. Gunter."

"Ok, Heika," Yozak said, as though he was discussing the menu for dinner. "How about you go to the stable and get Ao ready, and I'll just nip inside, tell Gunter, and get a few of your things together?"

The look of relief on the king's face was so painfully obvious that Yozak had to clear his throat and avert his eyes.

"That would be really great. Thanks, Yozak."

"No problem, Kiddo. I'll be back in no time. Would you put my dress in my bag—it's on my saddle."

"Yes…yes, of course!"

Yozak was pretty sure he could have asked the king to stand on his head and sing Shin Makoku's national anthem and he would have done it. The boy clearly had no desire to go back into the castle. Well, he thought, as he headed in to find Gunter—the next few days would be interesting if nothing else.

Yozak found Gunter in the library. The beautiful man was reading a book and making notes.

"Your excellency? I have a request."

"What can I do for you?"

"Heika has asked to come with me on my little holiday. He is insistent, however, that it just be the two of us. He doesn't want to discuss it with Wolfram…or Conrad." He let stress fall heavily on the captain's name.

"I see."

Yozak arched an eyebrow. He has expected tears and an emotional wail from the lavender-haired man. Instead, the older mazoku simply looked up from his notes, an expression of interest on his face.

"Well, yeah. And he said I should tell you, but no one else. Do you know what's going on?"

"No," Gunter replied after a moment's thought. "Heika has not confided in me, but it is clear that something is bothering him. Perhaps he feels comfortable enough with you to talk about it?"

"I couldn't say. But, I'm happy to take him with me. I'll protect the kiddo with my life, though I don't anticipate any problems."

"You will be prepared. Just in case, correct?"

"Of course."

"Then I believe it may be a good idea for his majesty to accompany you. I will handle the explanations."

"You're really worried, aren't you?" Yozak said, in wonder. He had seen Gunter like this before—usually before a battle.

"Just take care of his majesty, Yozak. I would do anything for him, and if what he needs is to spend time with you then that is what I want for him."

"I need to get some of his things together—clothes and materials for four days. Traveling light. He doesn't want to tell Wolfram, though…and I need to get into his room."

"Wolfram is training at present. He will be busy for at least another hour."

"Ok, then. I'll just pack for him and head out."

Yozak had his hand on the door handle and was turning it when Gunter's soft voice stopped him.

"Conrad is in Gwendal's office at the moment. He will be leaving in less than twenty minutes."

"How do you know these things?" Yozak muttered.

The older man simply smiled. Yozak opened the door and hurried to complete his tasks.

--O.o.O—

"Why did Yuuri have to go back to earth now? He never said anything to me about it, and I'm his fiancé—I should be the first to know!" Wolfram's petulant demand was met with resigned silence by those present at the table.

Conrad watched as Gunter frowned, his violet eyes squeezing closed. The man canted his head to the side. "I don't know, Von Bielefeld-kyo. I was walking with Heika in the gallery and when he stopped to admire the roses I had cut for him with such love, he was sucked into the vase and disappeared. It could be that there is something on Earth for Heika to take care of. But I will wait for him—forever if necessary—he shall know the depth of my love by my constant vigilance!"

"What? I guess you're going to cry now?" Wolfram muttered, his tone surly. "You spend too much time dreaming about my fiancé!"

"Oh, Heika! How I miss you already!" Gunter sighed, pressing his hand to his heart.

Gwendal simply shook his head and folded his arms. "Typical. I guess I'll go to bed early tonight, since I'll have to handle his work as well as mine tomorrow."

Conrad tapped his lips with his finger. Something wasn't right. If Yuuri had been drawn back to Earth, either by his own power of Shinou's, then why hadn't Conrad felt that little prickle on the back of his neck he always felt when Yuuri was traveling across dimensions? No. Something was not right. He watched Gunter carefully, but his old teacher wasn't giving away any clues—he seemed truly distraught that Yuuri was gone. Gwendal, clearly, had no suspicions. His older brother was just muttering into his soup and glaring at his knife as though there were a certain young king at whom he might like to throw it. But it was Wolfram's behavior that surprised him the most. He expected a bigger tantrum. Instead, the young man appeared oddly calm, though he was obviously planning something. The rhythmic drumming of his younger brother's fingers on the table indicated that much.

When dinner was actually served, Wolfram turned his face away from the plate and sniffed. "I don't want this. I hate fish—take it away."

The maid rushed to follow his instructions, and in her hurry accidentally slipped, causing some of the fish to land on Wolfram's coat. The younger man shoved his chair back from the table, roughly knocking against the girl. "Are you stupid?" he shouted. "How can you be a table-maid if you're so unbelievably clumsy? Get out of my sight!"

The girl ran out, in tears, Conrad guessed.

"Wolfram! It was an accident." Gwendal's voice was stern. "There is no need for you to be so hotheaded."

"You didn't mean it, did you, Wolfram?" Conrad said, quietly, trying to come to his little brother's defense. The behavior was uncalled for, of course, but Conrad couldn't help but try and smooth things over. It had been so many years since he and Wolfram were close, now that they were trying to repair that relationship Conrad wanted to do everything he could to foster that amity. "You'll apologize to Amy, won't you?"

"Amy? Is that her name? Hmph. She should be fired for stupidity." Wolfram sniffed. "Just because Yuuri is so wimpy that he recklessly allows himself to grow too close to the servants doesn't mean the rest of us should. It was never like that before he came."

"Wolfram--!" Gwendal hissed.

"Oh, Gwen, don't be so hard on my Wolfie…he's really a good boy, aren't you?" Cheri-sama said indulgently.

"Mother, you shouldn't speak such things aloud. I'm a man now." Wolfram objected.

Cheri-sama laughed, got up and hugged her youngest son tight. When Wolfram was blushing and objecting, the rest of the company settled back down to eat—and the moment passed. Conrad, however, looked at his brother thoughtfully. Had he always been this churlish? Spoiled, privileged, arrogant—yes, all those things, but there had never been maliciousness in his actions before. Something about the expression in the boy's eyes chilled Conrad, though. He turned the situation over in his mind. He wished Yozak was still in the castle. He would have welcomed his best friend's counsel and company just at the moment. Yuuri was gone, though if he was honest, Conrad had to admit that the king's physical absence was no different than his physical presence—the young man had been successfully avoiding him for months. But, with both Yozak and Yuuri gone, Conrad felt the bite of loneliness keenly.

Later that night, after everyone had settled into their rooms and Conrad had made his last check of the castle, he sat at his desk. He picked up the baseball sitting there, turning it over in his fingers. The memory of the last time he'd asked Yuuri if he wanted to have a game of catch came back to him. They had been in Yuuri's office, the boy reading and signing papers while Conrad looked out the window.

"_Heika? Are you feeling a little tired? Maybe you would like to have a break and play catch?"_

"_Oh. Well, no thank you, Conrad." The young man had said, not even looking up from the papers he was reading. "I really have to finish this work for Gwendal. Another time, ok?"_

When had it come to that? _Another time, ok?_ That's all he heard from Yuuri now. The Maou never had time, it seemed, to take walks, or play baseball, or go into the village. Gwendal still grumbled, but he had also remarked that Yuuri must be growing up because in the past months the young man had thrown himself into his work with a determined sort of passion. Conrad felt…put aside. He was still the king's protector, of course. Even if Yuuri didn't seem to want to acknowledge him, Conrad still accompanied the boy to diplomatic functions, stood guard at his office door, and made sure that he was safe. But from the moment the king entered his chamber at night, until he came down to the breakfast room in the morning, it was as if Conrad ceased to exist. Yuuri never sent him notes anymore, or told him with his eyes that he needed a break from any of his duties. Conrad had thought, at first, that his king was simply maturing—moving on from boyish pursuits to dedicate himself to his role as ruler. Now, he wasn't so sure.

What he did know, the only thing he knew for certain, was without Yuuri's attention Conrad felt as though he lived in a world of perpetual rain. There was no warmth in the world without Yuuri's sunshine smiling down on him. Had he done something wrong? Had he offended the boy in some grievous fashion? Why had the Maou withdrawn from him—when they had been so close?

Conrad sighed.

He cared, far more than he should, he knew. He cared. The king had withdrawn from him and it hurt. In fact, it tore his heart apart. He sighed again, tidying the small amount of clutter in his room. Maybe it was inevitable, this parting. Wolfram seemed to rarely leave the King's side anymore—leaving the boy alone only when the king was in his office, working. Even Greta was excluded from the royal bedchamber, and that could only mean one thing. Conrad pressed a hand to his rebellious stomach. The organ seemed determined to heave up the contents of dinner at the mere thought of what that might actually mean. He knew he had no right to be hurt, or to be jealous. It was perfectly normal for engaged couples to indulge in sexual activities—but somehow he had just never believed it would ever happen. He had somehow convinced himself that the engagement would not last.

He had been wrong, it would seem.

In the end, it didn't matter though, he thought as he blew out the candle. His room fell into darkness. No, he would always love Yuuri-Heika and because of that love he would endure any amount of pain. He had, after all, made a promise he intended to keep—he would never leave the Maou's side. _But,_ his heart whispered quietly, _Yuuri is still somewhere in Shin Makoku, and you know it—who is by his side right now?_

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_And there we have chapter one. I know it is not my usual offering, and I can't say for sure how many chapters it will take me to bring it to conclusion, but I will try to update daily as has been my habit. Thank you so much for reading, and while reviews are lovely and always appreciated, I am most thankful that you took the time to read it at all. -- SN_


	2. Chapter 2

_Well, here's chapter two as promised. Not a very nice chapter, all in all, as the violent scenes are now set. I will warn you again--this may not be the story for you if you are passionately attached to Wolfram. However, that being said, I am very thankful and grateful for your kind and encouraging reviews. I try to answer reviews as soon as possible, but for those who review without the links that let me answer--please know that I am truly grateful you took the time to write! As this chapter is entitled, so we meet The Confidant, The Counselor, The Hero and The Villain. Things are looking dark for Conrad, and it's going to get worse before it gets better. As always, I don't own the Maou (though it's the sound my cat makes when he's hungry). It's a long chapter--might want to get a snack first. :-)_

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**Chapter Two: The Confidant, The Counselor, The Hero and The Villain**

The first day's travel was uneventful. Yozak had been on many campaigns and had developed, over time, a sixth sense when it came to conversation. Sometimes, during a journey, he would be the trickster—keeping the company laughing by telling jokes, ribald stories, and making outrageous comments. He found that was most effective when the journey was filled with tension and uncertainty. When a person is scared, a little laughter often helped to control the fear. Other times, he would be the sympathetic ear—that worked best with young and inexperienced soldiers. Those boys liked to talk about home, their young wives or sweethearts, and the taste of their mothers' cooking. And on journeys like this, he found that providing companionable silence was the best approach.

For the first few miles of the ride, Yuuri had often turned in his saddle, when he thought Yozak wasn't looking, and glanced back at the trail behind them—as though he was afraid they were being followed. Considering they were barely outside of the village limits and that Blood Pledge Castle was still visible, it didn't make sense that the boy would be afraid. They were still, basically, at home and there were no dangers there.

As the horses moved at a steady pace, and the distance they put between themselves and the castle increased, the boy began to settle down. He was still fidgety, though, often moving and adjusting his seat in the saddle. Yozak knew the young king had been riding daily since he'd been in Shin Makoku, so it couldn't be that he was still uncomfortable in the saddle. Perhaps the boy was physically discomfited? Yozak speculated on what might bring about such a problem for the kiddo and honestly, he didn't like the answers his brain supplied. When they stopped long enough to water the horses and have a bite of lunch, the orange-haired man took a moment to dig through his bags, coming up with an extra sheep pelt. He folded it carefully and secured it to the king's saddle. When the boy returned from the stream, Yozak was already back in his saddle. The king didn't say a word about the pelt, but he didn't fidget as much for the rest of that day's ride, either.

It was after dark when they stopped for the night. Yozak had planned on staying at a local inn, but Yuuri had quietly asked if they could camp outside. Interesting. Yozak had never known Yuuri to be one to forego comfort, but he acquiesced cheerfully, and found a nice stand of trees that would provide both shelter and a defensible position. They made a simple camp. Yozak set out bedrolls—such a mild night would be perfect for looking at stars, no tents needed—then built a fire.

"How are you feeling, Heika? Are you hungry?"

"I'm all right," Yuuri had replied. "I'm not hungry, but eat if you are, please."

So, Yozak made something to eat, passing the time by telling Yuuri fish stories. He was just in the middle of explaining the difference between a rod made of ash and a rod made of oak when Yuuri interrupted.

"Have you ever had sex?"

"Sure," the spy said, completely surprised, and not showing it in the least.

"Have you ever had sex with a man?" Yuuri was poking the fire with a stick, but he was looking at his feet.

"Sure," Yozak answered again.

"Have you ever had sex with a woman?"

"Yeah." Yozak took a deep breath. He didn't want to scare the boy, but he really wanted to know what was on his mind. "Why do you ask, Heika?"

Yuuri shrugged and poked the fire again. "How old are you?"

"Well, Kiddo, old enough to have forgotten plenty, but, I'm one hundred thirty-one years old."

"How old were you when you…you know." The young king's face was emotionless, and his voice was flat.

"That's harder to answer…do you want the short answer or the long one?"

"I don't know."

"Ok, well," Yozak took a deep breath. "I was forty when I made love with a woman for the first time. I was twenty-five the first time a man had sex with me, and nearly fifty when I made love to a man the first time."

"Is twenty-five young, for a mazoku?"

"Yes, all things considered. I probably wasn't ready, but I was very curious when I was young."

"What's the difference between making love to someone, having someone make love to you, and just having sex?"

Yozak swallowed hard. He really didn't want to have to explain these intricacies to his king, but he was here, he thought, to help the boy with some problem, and if this was how it had to start, then so be it. "Well, the difference between making love and having sex, I'm thinking you know that already, right?"

"I guess you mean that you should have feelings for a person in order for it to be considered making love."

"Yep, that's what I mean. Is that the same on Earth?"

The boy nodded.

"So, here, between men…making love to someone else means you are the one, well, going inside—if you know what I mean?"

The boy nodded again.

Yozak breathed again. That wasn't as bad as he thought it would be.

"Have you ever been in love?"

_Well, that's what I get for counting my dragons before they hatch_, he thought. This wasn't going to be easy after all. What could he do? He had to answer the boy, but this was not going to end well if he wasn't very, very careful.

"Yes, Heika…I have been in love."

"But it didn't last?"

"I wouldn't say that. The first man I ever made love to, well, I still love him—although it's not passion now. Not that kind of passion. We are still close, and I'd do anything for him I could. Maybe it's because we're a long-lived race, but when feelings change over time, you just learn to deal with it."

"So, you fell in love again?"

"Yes, Heika," Yozak whispered.

"What happened?"

"He cares for someone else, and he is very loyal." Yozak was glad for the dark, thankful for the slight clouds that obscured the moon and blessed the distance between himself and the fire—without that cover he was certain the Maou would be able to read his eyes. "I know that he will never love me in the way I love him, so, I am content to just be his friend."

"Are we friends?"

"I like to think so, Kiddo," the spy answered gently. "I like to think that we have been through enough together that we are very good friends. I hope you trust me."

The boy seemed to consider this for a long moment. "I do trust you, Yozak. Would you…would you want this person you love to be with you, even if something bad had happened to him? Something he should have stopped but wasn't strong enough to stop?"

"I will always want him, Heika. If something happened to him, that was bad, I would want to be there for him and help him through it. If he needs protecting, I want to be the one he turns to for strength. If he is sad, I want to be the one he turns to for comfort. If he is happy, I want him to laugh with me. I want those things and a lot more besides, but, we're in two different places, and sometimes life is just like that. The man he cares about feels the same way, I'd bet my life on it."

"How can you be so sure you'd still want him?"

"I'm not perfect, kiddo, and I've been pretty scared plenty of times. I could never blame someone else for feeling the same. I've been hurt, and I would never reject someone because he was hurt. I'm just not like that."

"I think the man you love is pretty lucky."

"I'm just happy to know him. I…I love…him. But then, you have someone to love, too, right, Heika?" _Way to go_, Yozak, he scolded himself. _Go ahead and give him a chance to wax poetic about the Captain._

"I'm just a stupid kid. I don't know anything at all."

"You're not stupid, Heika." Yozak whispered, his heart throbbing painfully in his chest. "You're good, and you put others before yourself all the time—even when you shouldn't. It's how you are that makes me want to follow you!"

Silence stretched between them, and Yozak realized he'd gone too far. The boy had clammed up, or he was thinking, he wasn't sure which.

"Do you mind if I sleep, Yozak? I think I'm tired now."

"Of course not, Heika. Close your eyes. I'm here and you're safe, I promise."

"It's Yuuri, you know. I wouldn't mind if you remembered it."

"Ok, Yuuri, go to sleep now. I'll protect you."

"I wish you could," the boy whispered as he turned his back to the fire. If Yozak hadn't been listening so intently, he would have missed it. He frowned and settled down on his bedroll. What, exactly, was going on with the Maou?

Yozak stoked the fire one last time, then stretched out on his bedroll. Crossing his arms behind his head, he stared up into the sky. Was he always destined to follow Conrad in everything? How long had it really been, he wondered, since he'd taken his place in the Captain's shadow? It's not like he was unhappy. For the most part, he had always been very content. It started, he supposed, when Dan Hiri Weller took him away from his mother's grave. That was the first time he'd met Conrad and they had been together in some form or fashion ever since. They grew up together, liked the same things, pursued the same goals, had the same values….and loved the same king.

It had been many years since Conrad and Yozak had been lovers. It had been an achingly sweet time in his life, and Yozak remembered it fondly. The casual ease with which they had become intimate didn't end even after the affair did—there was no one Yozak trusted more than the strong man who'd named the king. But, every so often, when it was late like this, Yozak almost wished he could have something of his own…something that didn't relate directly back to Conrad. It was, he supposed, the nature of the beast—the nature of the sidekick, to be more specific—to always follow the man. But still, looking across the fire at the thin shape of the king as the boy huddled in on himself, he was jealous of the kind of relationship the Captain had with Yuuri. He was certain that if it were Conrad there, in his place, Yuuri would be in his arms. No, Conrad wouldn't push the issue, he was far too noble for that, but he would be holding the youth. Yozak's shoulders tensed, his body ready to spring up and leap across the fire to take the Maou into his embrace and shower him with gentle kisses and loving hugs. He took slow, deep breaths until his heart returned to its normal speed. He couldn't help loving the boy—and it was a common complaint, he knew—everyone who met Yuuri loved him in some way. Just at the moment, though, Yozak just wanted to hold him and make the monsters that were chasing him disappear into the night.

He was a realist, though, and that was never to be. Conrad was the Hero. He would always be the hero. Yozak would simply have to content himself with being the Confidant.

--O.o.O—

Conrad hesitated before knocking on the door to his elder brother's chamber. He was probably being overly cautious, overly protective. Still, Yuuri was somewhere in the world—_this world_—and Conrad was responsible. He couldn't seem to rest, or find any comfort anywhere in the castle. So, during his patrol, which was nothing more than an excuse for pacing the halls of the castle, he found himself before Gwendal's door. He knew his brother wasn't alone. Whenever Yuuri was gone from the castle, Gwendal and Gunter spent their evenings together. Conrad considered leaving one more time and had actually turned on his heel to go, when Gunter's soft voice called out to him.

"Come in, Conrad—you're wearing a groove in the floor pacing out there."

Unable to ignore the direct invitation, Conrad opened the door and stepped inside. Gunter and Gwendal were seated on the thick rug in front of the hearth. A cheerful blaze crackled in the fireplace. They were sitting back to back—Gwendal knitting steadily and Gunter reading through a sheaf of documents. Beside them, on the floor, was a basket of sweets and every so often Gwendal would pause, take one and pop it into his mouth. His brother was dressed in his soft, purple pajamas while Gunter was wearing nightclothes cut very much like Yuuri's, only they were a deep indigo blue instead of the light blue that the Maou preferred.

"Is something the matter, Conrad?" Gwendal asked. "It's unlike you to make social calls at this hour."

"Are you hungry?" Gunter finished reading, signed his name to the bottom of a document, then put the papers aside. "Would you care for a drink, perhaps?"

"No," he replied. "No, thank you."

"Then, what brings you here?" Gunter turned to the side, leaning against Gwendal's back as though it was a cushion. The pale-haired man slipped an around Gwendal's neck and pillowed his cheek against the stern man's shoulder. The look he gave Conrad was serene. "Is there a problem? Can we help with something?"

Gwendal paused in his knitting. He covered the hand resting on his chest with his own, gave it a squeeze, then went back to what he'd been doing. Conrad's throat ached suddenly and he couldn't speak. The gesture was so intimate, almost careless, yet spoke volumes about the two people who had been together since almost forever. He had thought one day…no, he had always hoped that he and Yuuri would grow old together—just like that. Cheri-sama was the best mother he could imagine—no one was more loving and fun, but watching the two men together, Conrad had to admit that his model for constant fidelity had always been Gwendal.

"It's Yuu…Heika," he said, finally. "I don't believe he is back on Earth."

"Indeed? Do you think Heika has returned then?" Gunter inquired softly.

"I don't believe he ever left, Gunter."

There. He had said it. _Out loud_. Conrad waited for a reaction—a quick denial, a shocked gasp, something to indicate he'd caught his old teacher in an untruth.

"Are you calling Gunter a liar, little brother?" Gwendal's voice was low, but held no discernable threat. "I would hate to have to defend my gentleman's honor against my sibling, you know."

Conrad swallowed. So that's how it stood. Gwendal knew something, too.

"It is just that…I had no sensation of Heika being taken from this world. I always know when he is moving through time—always."

"Do any of us _always_ know anything, Conrad?" Gunter asked.

"Under any other circumstances, I would agree with you completely, Gunter. But, in this case, I know. I just know."

"None of us here are omniscient. If that were the case, we three would be sleeping at this very moment, and Heika would be himself," Gwendal whispered.

"You're right," Conrad said sadly. "I don't know what happened. I am not even sure when it happened. You raised me, and trained me to be his sword and shield, Gunter, but now he won't even look at me. Maybe he was unable to forgive my betrayal during our search for the forbidden boxes, after all?"

He held his breath. He had not voiced his fear before, and it stung his heart to even consider it, but Conrad was afraid that he'd done something to his king. "I've driven him away."

"I don't think so," Gunter said after a moment. "Heika was nothing if not closer to you after that incident. You were under guard at the time, Conrad. You did not see how he defended you, longed for you, and fought everyone—including us—to restore you to his right hand."

"Why won't he talk to me?"

"He will when it's time, Conrad," Gwendal said. "If his relationship with Wolfram has taken a different turn, and they are becoming serious with one another, he may feel awkward."

The thought of that never failed to pierce Conrad to his very soul. Of all people, why Wolfram? He loved his younger brother, there could never be any question of that, but the young man was not playful, not forgiving, not whimsical—_not you, and not like Yuuri_—his mind whispered. No, jealousy had no place, and if Yuuri had made his decision, Conrad would have to learn to accept that. But it hurt. It hurt more than he thought it could.

"Perhaps." He said, finally. "I guess what I really came here to find out, because it's obvious you two aren't going to tell me anything, is—is Yuuri safe? Do you know that much?"

"I believe Heika is as safe right now as he would be if he were here with you." Gunter said seriously, then he smiled and his voice took on a lighter quality. "After all, he has always told us and we have seen that his world is safer than ours."

"I get it. I get it. You're not talking. Any idea when he'll be back?"

"I never know how the time flows, Conrad. Do you?"

Frustrated, the King's protector said his goodnights and left his brother's chamber. He stalked through the halls, more frustrated than before and actually considered for a moment, even gave the idea serious thought, taking his horse and riding out into the night with nothing to guide him to Yuuri but the love he held close to his heart. _Foolish, romantic notion_, he chastised himself silently. There was nothing for it, he finally decided, and turned in the direction of his own chamber. If sleep was to elude him, he could at least be awake in his own chambers where he had keepsakes and tokens to remind him of his absent king.

Conrad's normal route back to his room took him by the royal bedchamber, but tonight he didn't think he could bear to look at that heavy oak door—blocking his entry, as it now did—that separated him from Yuuri on most nights. The same door that protected Yuuri and Wolfram from the prying eyes of the castle. He hated that door. Illogical, yes, but he changed his direction all the same. By winding through the soldiers' quarters, he could reach his own room with only a slight increase in the number of steps.

As he turned a corner, coming into a dark hall, noises halted his progress. His blade was half out of its sheath before he registered the kind of noises he was hearing. Mingled pants and rough grunts, sighs and sharp painful gasps. No endearments, just harsh words—someone was having sex, and liked it rough by the sound of things. He stepped back around the corner, considering what to do. Sex was not forbidden in the castle, though most residents were considerate enough to keep their affairs discreet. In this case, it seemed the best course of action would be to go back the way he came, suffer the indignity of having to walk past the room he had been barred from entering, and try to find sleep in his own chamber. It's not like the scene he was listening to was even alluring, considering the whimpers and cries coming from the submissive partner. Violent sex was too close to real violence, in Conrad's opinion.

"I always knew you were a dirty little whore, but you want it like this…you need it, don't you? Who owns you, bitch? Go on, say it!" One of the voices ground out.

Enough. Disgusted, Conrad was going to bed.

"Y—you do, Commander. I'm your whore, Lord Wolfram!" The other boy, and Conrad knew it was a boy by the voice, cried out tearfully.

He slumped against the wall, sick to his stomach. Wolfram? Wolfram! It couldn't really be his brother brutally fucking one of his soldiers, could it? Conrad wanted to pretend that he'd never heard anything, that he'd been dreaming and this was some sick nightmare brought on by too much cheese too late at night. He told himself to leave, that it would only get worse if he stayed, but his boots remained stubbornly glued in place. Yuuri's face flashed across his vision. Yuuri's sweet, gentle, trusting, loving face. The boy would be devastated if he knew something like this was going on—Conrad was sure of it. How could Wolfram do such a thing? How _DARE_ he? How dare he treat Yuuri with such disrespect!

The increased tempo of growls and cries indicated the little scene was about to be over anyway, and as Conrad stood there, waiting to confront his brother, the anger inside of him blazed hot. He could barely see, his vision clouded with images of Yuuri—crying, seeking solace, and probably turning to anyone but himself considering how distant he'd been. _How…distant…he'd…been_. Conrad felt it like a gut punch. Could it be that Yuuri already knew of Wolfram's infidelities (because he was sure this was not nearly the first time) and that was why he had been so withdrawn lately? This had to end, and he was going to be the one to put a stop to it.

Wolfram was still adjusting his belt and straightening his jacket when he came around the corner. Conrad didn't say a word, but grabbed his little brother by the throat and slammed him up against the wall.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Wolfram? Yuuri is your fiancé! You little hypocrite, always accusing him of cheating on you when you've been doing…this…all the time. You have been, haven't you? What in Shinou's name are you thinking?"

His brother struggled for a minute, then roughly clawed Conrad's hand aside. The older man wasn't bothered by the pain and only let his little brother go because he wanted to hear some kind of explanation from him.

"Get over yourself, Weller," Wolfram spat out. "What I do is my own business. What I do with Yuuri and anyone else is certainly none of _your_ business."

"Yuuri's happiness _is_ my business, Wolfram."

"Really? Is that the case? Sorry, but it looks to me like Yuuri's moved beyond you. He hasn't spent time with you in months and we both know it."

"You will break his heart," Conrad whispered. How could anyone even think of doing such a thing to someone as wonderful and gentle as Yuuri?

"Well, it's my heart to break, now isn't it?" Wolfram smirked and swept his hair back from his brow. He smelled like sweet wine, sex and sweat—the combination made Conrad physically ill.

"What's the matter, Conrad…? Jealous, still? Yeah, sure you are. You've always been jealous that Yuuri's mine. You've always wanted Yuuri even though you know he belongs to me, and you know what? I'm fucking tired of it. All those little games you played with him for so long…_Heika! Let's play baseball. Heika! Let's take a trip. Heika! Come to me with your problems_—" Wolfram's rough falsetto, mimicking Conrad's voice was cruel in the extreme. "Well, none of them worked. Give it up. Yuuri belongs to me."

"Yuuri is not a possession, Wolfram! He is a man, a loving, sweet and gentle man. How could you do this to him?"

The boy waved a hand airily. "He's out of the castle, gallivanting somewhere on Earth. He's never going to know about this…unless you tell him of course. And I don't think you're going to do that."

"I certainly will—"

"And I'll tell him that you watched me, sick, perverted voyeur that you are. How do you think he'll react to that little piece of information? How will he like knowing that his noble, _perfect_ protector gets off on watching other people fuck—"

Conrad's hand flew before he could stop it. The ring of the slap of his hand against his brother's face echoed off the walls. The boy stumbled, held still for a moment, then raised a shaky arm to touch the back of his hand to his cheek. Wolfram spit on the floor. "Sorry, _big brother_," he sneered the words. "What you're suggesting is incest, besides, I'm already engaged."

"What is the matter with you?" Conrad exclaimed in disbelief and frustration.

"Nothing's the matter with me." The boy said, shrugging. "You're the one with the problem. Maybe it's just been that you've spent too many nights pretending Yuuri's your right hand to think clearly. So, I'll say it again. Yuuri is my fiancé—mine! He doesn't belong to you and he never will. So, stay the hell away from us."

Wolfram flipped his bangs over his eyes with his fingers, a dismissive and taunting gesture, then left Conrad to lean heavily against the wall. What was happening to his little brother? The soldier felt unaccountably old and useless. He was in a dilemma now, as well, because he had no doubt that Wolfram would do exactly as he threatened. The idea of Yuuri hating him was unbearable, but the idea that Wolfram could treat the Maou so shamefully was even worse. No, it didn't matter that Yuuri might believe Wolfram's lies, Conrad would still find a way to stop this and if it meant sacrificing himself to do it—it would be worth it.

--O.o.O—

The second day of the trip began much the way of the first. Yozak and Yuuri packed up the camp, and the spy made sure the king was comfortably settled in the saddle before he made one last sweep of the perimeter to check they hadn't left anything behind. The boy had smiled exactly twice since waking up. First, when Yozak spilled coffee on his hand and did his little dance of pain, the second time when a bird landed on the grass nearby and warbled a little song. _So_, Yozak noted to himself, _yesterday—no real smiles. Today—two smiles with opportunities for more._ It was a good start.

It was only a three hour ride to the village Yozak needed to visit. The ride was accomplished, once again, mostly in silence. Every so often, the older man would hum, or sing a little song. The king glanced at him often, his gaze thoughtful, when the thought Yozak's attention was occupied elsewhere. He wanted to say something, but the spy knew that the boy couldn't be drawn out—he'd choose the time when it was right.

When the village came into view, the Maou nudged his horse a bit closer to Yozak's mount. His chest also began to rise and fall quickly. Now…what could the King be nervous about in so isolated and sedate a place as this?

"You ok, Kiddo?" Yozak finally asked.

"I…I just liked it better when we could see everything. The village looks crowded."

So, he was afraid of too many people? Concerned about being caught off-guard? "It's probably market day," Yozak said, keeping his voice light and pleasant. "I won't be ten minutes delivering this package for His Excellency. Would you like to come with me? In fact, it might be better if you do, because Gunter would be very upset if I lost sight of you even for a minute or two. Then he'll cry on me. My dress will get ruined…you can imagine the nightmare. So, spare me that Yuuri and come with me?"

The boy grinned. _Smile number three duly noted_.

"Ok, I'll stick close," the boy said.

Yozak left the horses in the care of a stabler right on the edge of the village. In the warm darkness of the barn, he fitted a wig to Yuuri's head and helped him put in contact lenses. "There you go, Yuuri, totally undercover. Now, in and out, quick. It won't hurt a bit."

The boy tensed beside him for some reason Yozak could not identify, then took a deep breath. He threaded his arm through the taller man's, resting his hand on his elbow. Yozak nodded, and lead the boy through the village moving as quickly as he could without moving so fast that Yuuri would realize he was rushing. Yozak had been incorrect in his assessment—it only took eight minutes to deliver the documents to the right party. He was able to get Yuuri back to the horses and out of the village before anything of interest happened. Everything about the boy's demeanor told him that the last thing he wanted was adventure.

"How long 'til we get to your fishing spot?" Yuuri asked when they were mounted again.

"Only about an hour," Yozak replied. "It's close enough to the village to be in easy distance of a warm pub if it is raining, but it's not a popular spot. It's just going to be the two of us, Yuuri. I hope you're not too bored."

"No. It's just what I want. I want some peace."

"Well, it just so happens, that's on the menu today."

It didn't take long for Yozak to prepare the campsite. He put up a tent, then thought better of it, and spent some time rigging up a second sleeping area. It wasn't as comfortable as the one he'd set up first, but he didn't mind roughing it for a couple of nights. That way, if Yuuri needed some time to himself there wouldn't be any awkward moments.

"Ok," he said, dusting his hands off on his thighs. "That's the camp all ready. Are you ready to do some fishing?"

"I don't know anything about it," the Maou said shyly. "But I'm willing to try."

"Well, if you don't like it, you can always daydream or nap, Yuuri. You don't have to pretend you like something when you don't—not with me, ok?"

"Ok." The boy smiled. _Number five_.

One of the things that attracted Yozak most about fishing was the quiet, even peace it brought to him. He often lost himself in sword practice, or could relax with several glasses of really good whiskey, but fishing was, for him, a way to bring his violent professional life and his more romantic nature into balance. He patiently explained the mechanics to Yuuri, teaching the boy how to hold a rod, how to let the line draw out between his fingers, but not so fast that the thread would cut into his fingers. He demonstrated how to flex his forearm to cast the line into the deep water and how to aim for the deeper, quieter pools where fish liked to wait for bait. The young king was a fast learner, his concentration focused, and the two men spent several hours in an easy silence after that—punctuated by the simple sound of a tiny splash as a line was cast, or the gentle sounds of buzzing insects.

"Yozak!" Yuuri exclaimed suddenly, waving for the older man's attention. "I—I think something is happening."

"Do you have a bite?"

Yozak planted his pole in the ground and came to the King's side, helping the boy to jerk his wrists back.

"Wow, you've hooked a big one!" he said, grinning.

The fish put up a big fight, struggling against the current and the strong arms of the Spy. Yuuri held onto the rod, valiantly battling with the large animal. The fish leaped from the water, in one vain attempt to free itself—and it was huge. Yozak was laughing, Yuuri was gasping and everything seemed perfect for one, brief sun-filled moment—just two men and a fish. Then Yuuri lost his balance and landed in the water with a great splash. Yozak was still laughing when the young king popped up from the river, shaking his head. The spy managed to grab the pole when the boy lost his balance, so he was still struggling with the fish.

"We've almost got him, Yuuri!" Yozak shouted.

The king righted himself, still thigh-deep in the water and turned to watch the action. Yozak glanced at him, noticing the long tear in his shirt—the kiddo must have torn his shirt against a rock. The breeze picked up, moving the rent flaps of cloth away from the young man's back.

Time seemed to warp.

Yozak dropped the fishing pole.

The Maou's back was covered in what looked like bruises and what had to be scratches—none of them the result of his fall in the river.

"Great Shinou!" Yozak gasped. "Yuuri, what happened to you?"

Then everything exploded into frenzied action. Yuuri lost his balance again as terror and realization dawned on his face at the same time. In his haste to scramble away from Yozak, the older man watched him flail in the water. Without another thought, he launched himself into the river in order to bring the hysterical boy to safety. Yuuri beat his fists against Yozak's chest, struggling out of his arms and racing up the bank to press himself against a tree as if he thought he could make himself disappear.

"Yuuri?" Yozak said gently, as he came out of the water. "Don't run away, please. I'm not going to hurt you, ok? It's me—it's Yozak. I'm not going to hurt you."

The king's eyes were wild, darting in every direction, obviously seeking the best escape route. Yozak advanced slowly, almost creeping, toward the king, keeping his hands held out, palms up in a gesture of good intentions, not even bothering to push his sodden bangs out of his eyes.

"Yuuri, it's going to be ok. I'm not going to hurt you. You're safe. Let me…please let me take a look at you."

"No!" the boy wailed. "No…don't look at me, Yozak. I don't want you to see. No one can see…" he dissolved into wracking sobs.

Yozak took a few steps closer. "You're hurt, Yuuri. You might be really hurt. Won't you let me help you?" He took a deep breath and a risk. "Isn't that why you came out here with me? Because you wanted to feel safe? And maybe, maybe you trust me enough to let me help you? Please, Heika—I'm your friend. I just want to help."

"It's Yuuri," the boy whispered, slumping down to draw his knees up to his chest. "I…I don't deserve to be called King."

"Oh, kiddo," Yozak sighed, closing the distance between them and slowly reaching his arms out to draw the young man against his chest. "Who did this to you? Who could ever hurt you like this?"

Yuuri didn't answer. He buried his face against Yozak's neck and cried. The spy held the boy tenderly, brushing his wet hair away from his face and surreptitiously trying to assess the physical damage. He couldn't see much from this position, but, when the young ruler's collar pulled away from his neck, Yozak could see the remnants of teeth marks on his shoulder—much too deep to be a simple love-bite. There were other bruises, and it seemed that any place he tried to lay his hands caused the boy to wince in pain. How had he borne this so quietly? Yozak couldn't even believe the kid had made the ride this far without collapsing in pain. And how fucking long had this been going on?

"Yuuri, you will catch cold, I think, if we don't get you dry. Let's go back to camp, all right? I'm going to lift you up and carry you. Don't worry, I won't hurt you."

The boy nodded against his neck, and Yozak lifted him into his arms. He had carried the King before and not just one time. But the young man felt lighter than he should, as though he had been wasting away for some time. His thoughts were swirling in every direction, and Yozak couldn't seem to fix on any one plan in particular. So, he started with the basics. First, get Yuuri back to camp. Second, get Yuuri dry. Third, kill whoever dared to touch the man he silently loved. He knew something about the order was wrong, but it's all he could think of at the moment.

After getting Yuuri settled, he built a fire, keeping one eye on the boy the entire time. Yuuri had stopped crying, but his blank stare was worse than his tears. The expression of self-loathing broke Yozak's heart square in his chest. "Yuuri," he said quietly. "I'm just going to get my first aid kit from my pack and gather some more wood for the fire. Will you be ok for a few minutes?"

The boy hid his face in his arms and shrugged. Figuring that was as close as he was going to get to a yes, Yozak, left the camp.

He was shaking when he got to his saddle and packs. He couldn't stop the shudders that passed through his shoulders and he couldn't identify everything he was feeling. There was sadness, and worry of course. There was disbelief and over and above all, there was rage. An overwhelming, burning rage. The Maou had looked so fragile, so…vulnerable. Yozak fell to his knees, thinking about what might have happened and vomited. He was a hard man, and he'd seen many things, but the idea that something so awful could have happened to Yuuri and he hadn't known it. It was unacceptable. _Some fucking royal bodyguard he was!_ And if he felt the way he did…what would Conrad do when he found out? Yozak shook his head, got to his feet, and tried to work out a tiny part of his aggression on the innocent trees. Cutting firewood provided some outlet for his physical need to destroy something. Conrad's face kept coming to mind. He couldn't know about this—but how could he not know about this? Every thought brought about more questions, and Yozak knew only one thing for certain—whoever had done this to Yuuri, didn't have long to live. Even if he, himself, could be restrained, he knew that Conrad would never rest until the person who hurt Yuuri was punished. No. Not punished. _Annihilated_.

"Where was I when this was happening to you, kiddo?" he asked the empty air. He grimaced. He was probably drinking with some one night stand somewhere, off on some meaningless assignment for Gwendal when he should have been at the castle protecting the Maou. _What a fucking waste of flesh_, he cursed himself. He checked the sky. He'd been away too long; time to get back to the king.

"Hey, kiddo," he called as he came back into camp—his arms full of wood, a first aid kit on his hip, and clothes slung over his shoulder. "I'm back, give me just a minute, ok?"

Yozak took care of the chores, then approached Yuuri cautiously. "Kiddo, I need to take a look at you, ok?"

"No, it's not important."

"Sure it's important, Yuuri. You've been hurt."

"I deserved it," he whispered. "I let it happen."

Oh god. _Oh_, god. Oh, _God_! He didn't really think that did he? Yozak took a deep breath.

"No one deserves this, Yuuri. Please, I'm begging you now, Heika. Please let me look."

The boy looked up at him, his black eyes shimmering with tears. "I tried to stop him, but…it's complicated."

Yozak nodded, opting for silence while he gently eased the torn shirt from his king's unresisting form. He wasn't prepared for what he saw. He thought what he'd glimpsed had hardened him, but the extent of the damage on the young boy's slim frame was much worse than he had anticipated. Conrad was going to combust into the very flames of hell when he found out about this. Yuuri's back was covered with bruises, some fresh and others faded to a sickly yellow-purple alerting Yozak to the fact that this abuse had been systematic over a period of time. The scratches on his back looked like nail grooves. He shifted his own shoulders, the few times he'd been clawed in passion, he rather liked it, but these were…chasms, ravines, not mere scratches. He gently pressed his fingers against Yuuri's lower back and the boy winced, shifting away from the pressure.

"Yuuri, how does your back feel? Does it…hurt when you…you know…take a leak?" Yozak blushed. He was no doctor and sometimes wished he wasn't quite so uncouth.

"Sometimes. It did a lot a few weeks ago, but not always now."

So. _Kidney punches_. Fucking bastard—whoever did this. Yozak turned the boy in his arms and looked over his chest and abdomen. More bruises, one lurid purple one near his lower ribs, and numerous bite marks, some slight and some deep enough to have drawn blood—and at least one set that would leave a permanent scar. His hands were shaking as he wound a bandage around Yuuri's ribs. He didn't think the boy had any broken bones, but it wouldn't hurt to be safe.

"I'm sorry," Yuuri whispered. "I know I'm…disgusting."

"No!" Yozak said, confused. "You're Yuuri, my kiddo, and the best king Shin Makoku's ever had. This isn't your fault. I'm sorry I'm shaking—I'm just angry that anyone could ever hurt you. And angry at myself for not being there to stop it."

"You were in Francshire when it started," the king said quietly. "After that, you were in and out of the castle, but never for very long."

Yozak swallowed hard. He had been in Franchsire six months ago. "Why…why did you stay, Yuuri? Couldn't you have gone back to Earth?"

The young man shook his head, tears spilling down his face. "I tried. I jumped in every puddle I could, every bath tub. I swam laps in the fountain at Shinou's temple…I even dumped a pitcher of water over my head…but, it's like it won't accept me anymore. It's because I'm filthy."

"No, Yuuri. You're not dirty. You're not to blame. The Maou is—"

"Asleep." Yuuri said, looking into Yozak's eyes. The boy's loneliness was so great the spy thought he could hold it in his hand. "It's like I can feel him, in here—" Yuuri broke off and touched his chest. "He's there…but…I can't reach him. It's like there is a wall here, between us, that was never there before and I can feel him, but he's…asleep is the only way I can think to explain it. Normally, I can feel him, inside of me, a part of me, it's weird, I know but I'm used to it. It's different now."

"Why didn't you tell anyone, Yuuri? Did whoever did this to you…did…did he threaten you?"

"Not…Not exactly. It's just…I can't tell anyone because it's my fault, and I didn't stop him."

"But, Conrad—"

"No!" Yuuri's shout sat Yozak back on his heels in surprise. "No. Conrad can never know about this," he continued softly. "He would…he would have to act and besides it's too late. Conrad won't ever…I'll never be good enough now. Conrad is perfect…and I'm…I'm spoiled goods. Damaged."

"Those aren't your words, Yuuri." Yozak said. "Who said that to you? Who told you that? The captain loves you and always will, no matter what."

The boy shook his head, but Yozak pulled him close again. "Tell me, Yuuri. This secret is eating you up inside, I can see it. Tell me who did this to you."

Silence stretched between them until Yozak thought the boy might be falling asleep from pure exhaustion. Finally, it was a defeated sigh from the king that signaled his capitulation. "It was Wolfram. Wolfram did it."

Yozak struggled to breathe. He had known, deep inside of himself, that it was the brat. There really could be no other answer, but he hadn't wanted to believe it. He knew the young prince was a jackass—spoiled and pampered, but he never thought he had any dangerous qualities in him. He'd always seen him as a nuisance—something to be ignored. What if it was by overlooking the blonde that Yuuri had been left open to danger? The world seemed to twist on a crazy axis and he took several gasping breaths. This just was _NOT_ happening. It couldn't be. But the battered boy in his arms was evidence enough of the truth.

"Yuuri," he whispered. "Did Wolfram do anything else to you?" The meaning of his sentence was clear.

The boy shook in his arms. "No more talk, Yozak. I just want to rest, please."

"Ok, kiddo. We'll just take this slow, ok? We can talk more tomorrow. For now, let's get you settled in for the night. Listen, I don't want you to be afraid tonight—I will be right here, and nothing is going to happen on my watch. I promise."

"Thank you," the boy sighed. "I…I don't deserve a friend like you."

"Don't you say that," the spy replied, carrying the boy to the tent and helping him into fresh clothes. "Let's just get some sleep. It's been a long day, eh?"

"Yes." Yuuri reached out and grabbed Yozak's wrist as the taller man turned to crawl out of the tent. "I don't want to…I mean I'm not asking for…Yozak, can you stay with me? I feel better when I'm not alone."

The older man smiled down at the frightened boy, as reassuringly as he could. "Of course I'll stay, if you like. And I know what you're asking. I would never make that kind of advance on you, Yuuri. You're safe with me, remember?"

So the two men shifted around the tent until they were as comfortable as possible in the small space. Yozak let Yuuri find the position that suited him best, and ended up closing his arms around the boy as he nestled against his chest. He rested his chin on top of the king's head, silently beginning to plan his next series of actions. Conrad would have to be informed, Gwendal, and Gunter, too. The king would need all the strength he had and whatever he needed to borrow to get through this time. _Conrad_. Yozak had no idea how he would break the news to the king's protector, but he knew that when he did, there would be no place in all the world that Wolfram would be able to hide. Because if the Captain couldn't find him, Yozak would. He was the best spy in Shin Makoku and there was no one he couldn't track.

Yuuri hiccupped in his sleep, hot tears leaking out from beneath his lashes. He was restless, shaking in his sleep and his small, plaintive voice calling for Conrad as though he was lost. Yozak shifted the slight young king in his arms and breathed soft words in his ear until the boy settled into deeper sleep. Yozak, in the meantime, continued to think, holding Yuuri to his chest, until the sun's rays made shadows on the tent wall, signaling the start of a new day.

* * *

_So, what do you think? Yuuri is starting to acknowledge what's happening to him, and he's going to need plenty of support if he's going to come out the other side. And Conrad? Well, I think Yozak may be right--even the Maou in all his glory would be no match for the brave Sir Weller when Yuuri's safety is at stake! In chapter three, we take the journey back to Blood Pledge Castle, but there may be a surprise or two when we get there...thank you so very, very much for reading! Reviews and Thoughts are always appreciated but never a requirement for me--I think you guys are awesome for plowing through this one! --SN_


	3. Chapter 3

_:Striped Neko walks in with the new chapter--wearing a shirt that has a little chibi-Gwendal on it, holding a picket sign that reads: Gunter is innocent! He didn't know!: _

_Well, here we are at Chapter Three. Wolfram's character is revealed, and, I just want to mention something on that subject (which I hinted at in some review replies). I am considering Wolfram in the following way--he is impetuous, headstrong, and used to getting his way. He has been pampered, indulged, and spoiled his entire life. At the same time, he has had to live in the shadow of two very strong men, namely Gwendal and Conrad, and I think he has a lot of frustration, insecurity, and arrogance to deal with. Is that enough to turn any man into a monster? I don't know, but for purposes of this story only, Wolfram's character traits have darkened, but, I hope he is not completely without hope of redemption, even if that redemption is not complete. Wolfram's not used to being told "no"...and we'll just have to see what happens in the rest of the fic. Honestly, I don't even know what will happen yet. That being said, I can't tell you how much I appreciate all your reviews and your opinions. It means a great deal to me that you take the time to read, then write as well. So, enough of my chatter. Remember, I don't own the Maou, I just mess with his head. See you at the end of the page!_

* * *

**Chapter Three: Hope, Despair, Charity, and Defiance**

Yuuri opened his eyes, strong sunlight made dust motes shimmer before his eyes. How long had he been sleeping? He squinted, trying to remember the events of the night. He remembered resting against Yozak's chest, listening to the sounds of the strong man breathing. He remembered waking, often, at uncertain noises—the snap of a twig in the woods, a pop from the dying fire, but through the night he had depended on the comforting warmth of his companion to feel safe. In the bright light of morning, though, he found himself the sole occupant of the tent and he panicked. Maybe Yozak had grown disgusted by having to be near him—after all, who would want to be close to someone like him now? He sat up, straining to hear, his heart thundering in his chest. He wanted to call out, but it seemed like his voice no longer wanted to obey his commands. So he sat there, trying to calm his rapid pulse, taking deep breaths and wondering if he was really alone. Then he heard it. A faint sound was growing steadily closer, the sound of Yozak's voice—he was humming a tune, occasionally singing snatches of a song. Yuuri took a shuddering breath and pulled his knees to his chest. Sweat was standing on his forehead and he wanted to compose himself before trying to start the day.

"Yuuri?" Yozak called from some place closer by. "I'm just going to start the fire now, are you awake yet?"

Starting the fire. Of course, what a normal, simple thing to do. Yuuri shook his head slowly, trying to clear away his irrational fears. "I'm up," he replied, trying to inject some emotion into his voice. "I'll be out soon."

Yozak poked his head into the tent, smiled and bid him a quiet good morning. "I'm going to make some breakfast. I caught two fish this morning already! Would you like some, too?"

"S—sure," Yuuri replied. "I guess, if it's ok, I'd like to get cleaned up first?"

His companion nodded toward the other side of the tent. "I left some soap for you and a towel. The river's cold, though, so be careful, ok?"

"Thanks."

Yuuri gathered his supplies and crawled out of the tent. He stretched, taking care not to pull at his sore spots any more than necessary and watched Yozak as the man busied himself with tasks in the camp. The tall man moved with an economy of motion that reminded Yuuri of Conrad. He quickly coaxed a fire to life, then prepared the already-cleaned fish, spiking them onto sticks and setting them just close enough to the flames to cook without scorching. There was a weathered kettle set to one side of the cooking pit, the top clinking as the water inside boiled. Everything in the camp had a use, a place, and Yuuri realized that Yozak must be very used to fending for himself. He admired the man at the same time he felt ashamed of himself—he didn't know how to do any of these things.

There were so many things that he didn't know how to do in this world.

Winding his way through the trees to the river, Yuuri wondered, not for the first time, if he really was the right choice to be the Maou in this world. He had been a normal teenager, playing baseball, avoiding bullies when possible, trying to make a life for himself independent of his stellar older brother when he was first brought to Shin Makoku—and at first it had seemed like a fairytale, or TV adventure. But this was a real place. The people were real. And it took him no time at all to fall in love with the country and the people in it. If he was honest with himself, he mused, it took him no time to fall in love with the idea of being someone who could make a real difference—could bring about a change for the better for people that he cared about. And there were so many expectations resting on his shoulders. He remembered a quote from school—_Heavy is the head that wears the crown_. Well, his head didn't feel so much heavy as it felt confused.

Yuuri took a deep breath and started to undress. He had discovered that the best way to get through the days now was to break things down into small, easily accomplished tasks. _So, get undressed, wash, dry, get dressed_. That was the plan for the moment. He dipped his arms in the cold water, wincing at the chill, and then wet the soap. He began to scrub his skin. The frigid water numbed his fingers, but he didn't mind. He slipped out of his thoughts into a sort of trance as he washed. Maybe if he could just scrub hard enough, use enough soap, he could wash away the memories and start over…and he wanted to start over. He wanted everything to be new again—so he stripped off the rest of his clothes and waded into the river. The water made his skin burn it was so cold, but, as he began to grow numb, he found it was easier to focus on the soap. He scrubbed, rubbing at his skin with harsh strokes. It hurt, but as he looked at his arms, he just didn't feel clean. He didn't think he would ever feel clean again, but still he washed—swiping at his skin now, willing it to change before his eyes. If only he could change skins, scraping off this damaged hide and get down to the pink, fresh, baby-new flesh beneath the scrapes and bruises, maybe he would be himself again.

"Yuuri," Yozak's voice was quiet, insistent. "You need to get out of the water. It's colder than you think."

He jerked his head up and looked at the man who was, at present, squatted down on his haunches, regarding him with an interested expression. Yuuri didn't know how long he'd been in the river.

"Breakfast is ready. Are you still hungry?"

Yuuri nodded, embarrassed that he'd been caught like this. He knew that Yozak wouldn't say anything, but the shame crept over him again.

"Ok. I just lost track of time. I'll be right out."

The spy nodded, giving him another friendly smile, then left Yuuri in privacy. Yuuri had the feeling that Yozak wouldn't be far away, and he wondered at the man's ability to appear just when he was needed. He got out of the water and dried off. He looked at his skin—still the same old wrapper. Sighing, he struggled back into his clothes, winding the bandage Yozak had put around his ribs the day before around his hand. The sun was shining, it was quiet and peaceful. In that one moment, Yuuri was strangely glad to be right where he was.

Breakfast was, indeed, ready when he returned to camp. Yozak handed him a plate, reminding him to check for bones, and a cup of his incredibly horrible coffee. Yuuri didn't have the heart to tell the man that his choice of morning beverage lacked anything like taste, but it was at least hot, and it warmed him from the inside. He balanced his plate on his knees and listened as Yozak explained the finer points of roasting fish on a stick. Apparently, the trick was to get a branch that was still mostly green—so the wood wouldn't immediately catch flame, but not so green that the fish would taste like sap.

"I was having a dream about Conrad that night," Yuuri blurted out.

He hesitated, feeling frightened again. He didn't know why he kept interrupting Yozak's soliloquies. It was like something just took over his mouth and made him talk.

"That seems natural enough," the orange-haired man said, as though they had been talking about this subject the entire time.

"It was…sort of, romantic, you know? I…I dream about Conrad a lot."

"Sure. I understand."

"In the dream, Conrad was touching me. And I liked it."

Yuuri didn't think the words did justice to what he really meant. He had been having erotic dreams about his protector for years, probably since the man saved him the first time he arrived in Shin Makoku, but as time passed his dreams became more intense, more explicit, and as wrong as he suspected they were to have, he looked forward to them every night. At least in his dreams, Conrad wanted him as much as he wanted the handsome soldier.

"It's ok to have dreams, Yuuri. It's normal."

"When I woke up, I was drowsy, but it wasn't like the other times…I still felt things. And when I opened my eyes, I realized Wolfram was…" He broke off and took a deep breath, his chest feeling suddenly tight. "His mouth was…on me."

"That must have been a surprise." There was no judgment in Yozak's voice, only a mild sort of concern.

"It felt good," Yuuri admitted. "And, I was really close, you know—so I tried to pull away because I didn't exactly want him to know how good it felt and I didn't want to—you know. I mean, I'd never done anything like that before…"

"But you didn't…?"

Yuuri shook his head. "It was like everything happened all at once. And I couldn't stop. He didn't seem to mind though, because after I…finished, he kissed me. I sort of minded that, because it just felt strange, but he had just done…that…and I was still sort of turned on."

Yozak nodded, reaching over for the coffee pot and pouring himself a second cup.

"So, he said that I should…do something for him, too—because he'd done something for me. I didn't want to, but it didn't seem fair that I should get to and he didn't. So, I let him."

"I see."

"When we were doing it…he said some things that really bothered me."

"What sort of things?" Yozak stared at his coffee, but his knee was resting against Yuuri's. He was glad for the contact, and he pressed his knee back—to indicate his thanks.

"I…I don't want to say them," Yuuri said, finally. "But he was…rough. Swore a lot. It wasn't like I was expecting it would be. And…after it was over…I cried because the truth is…I didn't want him to be my first, you know?"

"Had your heart set on someone else?"

Yuuri felt tears spill onto his cheeks. Yozak's voice held nothing but kindness and understanding. "Yeah," he said finally.

"He won't hold that against you, Yuuri. He never would. No one would."

"I think he knew, though. Wolfram, I mean. He knew that I was thinking about C—Conrad. It made him angry. I can sort of understand that."

"Whether he was disappointed or not, Yuuri, he had no right to hurt you."

"I know," he whispered. "But he was really sorry afterwards, the way he is always sorry when he conks me on the head when he calls me wimp and stuff. This was just more intense."

The tall man sipped his coffee, then leaned his forearms on his thighs, still looking into the fire. Yuuri was grateful for that. He didn't think he could go on if he had to stare at Yozak's face. He searched for the words he wanted, struggling with what he wanted—no, _needed_ to say. He closed his eyes and after a moment he felt the slight brush of Yozak's fingers over his own. He clutched at the spy's hand and gripped it tightly.

"I don't understand why he wants to be with me. I don't even think he likes me that much. Everything I do seems to set him off, especially if I spend any time with Conrad. So, I sort of stopped hanging around with Conrad—changing my schedule and things. That helped for a little while. I want Wolfram to be happy, I mean, he's right when he says I've been stringing him along for years now."

"He made the choice to stay, too, Yuuri. You are not holding Wolfram against his will."

"I know. I know it sounds weird and everything, but ever since that night, that first night, I just sort of stopped fighting it. It's not like Conrad's even interested in me like that, he thinks I'm a kid, and he's probably right, but even if he was interested in me—he wouldn't be now. I mean, who would want someone who'd been engaged to his brother?"

"The captain is a quiet man, a patient man. Don't mistake his silence for disinterest. Perhaps he's waiting for you to show him that you're ready. Conrad will wait forever when he wants something."

"He'll never want me now. No one will." Yuuri sighed, but then covered his wistful expression with a hurried exclamation. "That's ok though, because I have a lot I still need to do here."

"Don't underestimate him, kiddo. Conrad is not a fickle man."

"Conrad is perfect, though. He's never messed anything up in his life."

"Oh, Yuuri," Yozak sighed, putting his coffee cup on the ground and turning to the side. He offered his arms and Yuuri latched onto him, hugging him while the tears ran down his face. He didn't understand why he needed the comfort, but Yozak was the only friend he had at the moment, and Yuuri was so tired of keeping everything inside.

"Shhhh…" he felt Yozak whisper against his hair. "Conrad is a great man, one of the greatest I know, but he has his faults, Yuuri—none of us escape that. He's a man, just as I am, just as you are."

"I miss him so much!"

"I know you do, kiddo. I know you do. The thing is though, you just have turn around and look behind you to see he's been there this whole time. You are the most important person in his life. Don't forget that, Yuuri. You are the sun in many lives. More than you will ever know."

Yuuri shook his head and let the sobs go, soaking Yozak's shirt with a rain of tears. He wasn't sure how long he cried that time, but his eyes were swollen and itchy, his throat raw, when he finally got himself under control. He shuddered. He wanted to finish this.

"It hasn't happened often—the sex. But, something changed between me and Wolfram. It was like we were punishing each other. I didn't want it, but we'd argue, the way we always do, then we'd fight. I felt guilty because he kept saying that if I loved him I'd be faithful—in my heart. I ended up giving in because it was just…easier. He's rough, though and sometimes I think he hates himself. I want to help him, but it's only getting worse. I had to tell Greta that she couldn't come into our room at night, because I can never be sure when we're going to fight."

"He hits you…when you're having sex?" Yozak seemed to be picking his words very carefully.

"Yeah, but sometimes we just fight. He likes to bite."

"I noticed."

Yuuri took a deep breath. "So, the day before we left for this trip, a woman came to see me—you know, during the open audience, when I listen to the people's concerns."

He glanced up at Yozak and the man nodded in encouragement.

"Anyway, she's been married to this soldier for twenty years, and he beats—beat—her all the time. She even lost her baby because of it. And as she was talking, I realized that I was heading down the same road, and something snapped. I don't want that. I don't want to raise Greta around that. I want things…to be ok, to be normal. But I don't think they will be—not now."

"Making the decision to change your life is the first step, I think, Yuuri. One step at a time, let the rest come as it will. I would like to ask you a question, if I may?"

"O—ok."

"Did you consent to the sex, Yuuri?"

Yuuri expected the question and he felt sick, but he had to be honest. "Yes, I think so. I've thought about it a lot, but even though I didn't like it, I didn't stop it. I…I like men. And it's…complicated. You're asking me if Wolfram raped me, aren't you?"

"Yes." Yozak's voice was quiet, serious.

"I let him do what he did, but I'm not sure why. It wasn't rape, but it wasn't right, either."

"No, it wasn't right, that's true."

"After the first time, I felt so awful. It was like I was punishing myself as much as Wolfram was."

"Punishing yourself?"

"I can't help it." Yuuri whispered. "I feel I betrayed Conrad, and I know it's not true, but I certainly betrayed my own feelings for him."

The spy's arms tightened around him briefly, then relaxed. Then the man did the strangest thing. He started to sing. Yuuri closed his eyes and listened to the song, a tune he didn't know, about a father who left his son to go to war, but promised to come home again. He felt so tired and it wouldn't hurt to rest a little while. Exhausted as he was, Yuuri thought he might feel just the tiniest bit lighter—now someone knew the truth, and he didn't have to hide anymore. His head felt heavier, his thoughts came slowly, and he let himself fall asleep, lulled by the sound of the older man's voice.

--O.o.O—

Conrad Weller had always prided himself on his control. Even when he was young and impetuous because it is the nature of youth to be reckless, his rebellion only manifested itself in controlled ways. For example, when he was at school and Yozak would meet him under the cover of night, then the two would spend the evening in town gambling and drinking—Conrad never imbibed to the point that he couldn't successfully navigate home again. He was, as he thought about it, very much his father's son. Honor was important to him, duty and obligation were as inseparable from him as his brown hair and dark eyes. His strength of character, the pride he took from performing his duties well, the love he had for his country all folded together in him to produce the soldier he had grown to be. Yes, he knew he was his father's son—and he could never regret that. But there was, deep inside of him, a part of his mother that laced through his most private self, creating something like a net which cradled his most tender, romantic emotions. It was this part of him, this rebellious spirit that refused to deny the beauty of life that allowed him, while going about his duties, to notice and appreciate the way the flowers had been arranged throughout the castle. It was this part of him that whispered to his heart that there is no shame in taking an afternoon off to play or relax. And it was this part that insisted love was important—and worth any risk. He was, too, his mother's son.

Many people believed him to be a tragic figure. He knew that. He had not been so well schooled in hiding his emotions when Julia had been alive. Even though she was promised to Adelbert, he had loved her. It was easy to love her—her gentle spirit, her kindness and her hope for a better future made the people around her want to be better, too. Conrad had been younger then, and being his mother's son, chivalric love had a decided appeal. Julia had been something more and less than a lover—someone special to him, someone he could long for and adore, someone he could think of when he was far from home and know, without a doubt, that she would always care for him. She had been the one to teach him, in her patient way, that love could be more than the brilliant burst of longing emotion. It could last, even beyond death. Julia was anchored in his heart, more than a memory really, but a part of him. He understood Adelbert's jealousy, he just wished the man realized that Conrad had been jealous, too. In some ways, he thought it had been unfair to both of them—Julia's ability to love so completely and without prejudice. Adelbert had her hand and her affection, Conrad had held her heart and her confidence. It had been so very hard.

He thought of Yozak, then. A different love, to be sure, but true and real all the same. He would have gone mad, he was certain of it, without his best friend's implacable resolve to keep him amongst the sane and living. Yozak had taught him that love and sex do not need to be exclusive—and that sex can be tender, passionate, and…fun. How many times had they laughed together, the cheerful sound a ward against the darkness and terror that sometimes defines the life of a soldier? He had cherished those mornings, lying loose-limbed and lazy, in a cozy inn, legs and sheets tangled together making love and giggling like schoolboys again. He had needed, then, someone as strong as he was himself, who understood without words what he'd been through and who could remind him that to live is to have joy. Yes, Yozak had been a lover, but his comrade throughout, and he was glad that the man still held a large piece of the real estate that comprised his heart.

Perhaps it was from his mother, too, that he gained his amorous spirit. Conrad had had many dalliances, a few affairs and the occasional tryst, but the part of his father that still held dominance never let those grow out of control. He considered himself lucky, therefore, to have been a partner in two great loves. He had been content to live his life unfettered, concentrating on his responsibilities, because he had known that sweet emotion twice in his life and could a man really ask for more than that?

Then came Yuuri.

Conrad paused in his thinking. Then he paused in his steps, coming to a halt on the library balcony. He looked out over the village below Blood Pledge Castle, watching the sun glint off the windows of the houses there.

_Then came Yuuri_.

Conrad wasn't sure if he would ever be able to put his thoughts about the Maou into words. He had been so angry, so resentful when Julia died—it had been Yozak's will alone that had pulled him through many of those days. How unfair it had been, how he bristled when Shinou chose him, of all people, to be guardian to her soul and expected him to just hand that soul over to strangers in another world and trust them to raise a child who could be worthy of all that she was. He never believed anyone could be worthy of her. Then he met the people who would be Yuuri's parents. First, of course, he'd met the Maou of earth. The man was not a knight in the sense Conrad had always understood the term. He wore a suit, not armor. He carried a cell phone, not a sword. Yet, there was more strength, more iron in that man's character than Conrad thought possible. When he met Shibuya Shoma, the man who would be father to the future king, Conrad misjudged him—thought him simple, ignorant. But mazoku blood runs strong, its truth undeniable, and when the man stood up to him in that restaurant, Conrad had felt like an ignorant child in the face of such overwhelming, paternal strength. It was at that moment that he felt himself begin to change. In that moment, before Julia's soul had even been delivered, he felt the first cracks in the walls he built around his heart. The man had been, and continued to be, a force of nature. Conrad wondered if he had the courage to do what Shibuya Shoma had done. Could he raise a child, with all the fierce love of a father, withholding the information that the boy would one day grow to be ruler of another land—preparing him, loving him, nurturing him, all with the knowledge that he would one day lose him? Shibuya Shoma had done that and far more. Had he not raised two sons who would rise to lead the Mazoku of both worlds? Conrad didn't know if he had anything close to that kind of strength.

But, he did have the strength to help the man accomplish his tasks. He loved Shin Makoku, and wanted the best for his country, so, it had been his honor to help watch over her future king. His pride in the boy grew even as the child matured. He had loved him, first, with the love of a protector—a godfather. Later, as Yuuri came to Shin Makoku and that first day had gone so horribly wrong, Conrad became his loyal sword, his shield against every danger. He remembered looking on the boy and thinking he must protect him because he carried Julia's soul as well as the future of the country. But, that had changed, over time.

Once, while on Earth, he and Jose Rodriguez passed a construction site. Conrad had been amazed and fascinated by the enormous buildings on that planet—the towers called skyscrapers that reached up so high he thought they must spear the clouds. Jose had explained, as they watched the workers, that the strength of many of the materials lay in how they were assembled. He'd pointed out the men who were placing an iron meshwork into a form, then pouring a sort of liquid stone over top of it. Concrete. Jose said that the iron mesh, inside the concrete would, as the material hardened, increase the tensile strength and load-bearing capacity of the slabs exponentially—allowing humankind to build structures that defied Conrad's simple imagination. He had come to think of Yuuri that way. Perhaps, in the beginning, he had been the vessel for Julia's soul, but over the years of his life, the boy had matured into his own person. That soul was imbedded in him, just like the mesh, but the life surrounding it—that was all his.

Conrad couldn't say for sure when his love for Yuuri evolved from that of a loyal soldier and protector into that of a passionate, ardent suitor. He couldn't remember the exact moment, the look on Yuuri's face, or the words he had spoken, but it had changed and now…well, now his thoughts were consumed by desire. He wanted so much—he wanted Yuuri—in every way it was possible for one person to desire another. The need to be near him was still accomplishable by rendering his appointed tasks, but the need to be a part of him, and to fold the young man into himself was more difficult to express. No matter how he had approached the problem, there had always been Wolfram in the way. Wolfram—the beautiful, beloved younger brother. Conrad felt sometimes like his heart would split from the tension. He had wanted his brother's happiness, and the realist in him, the strategist, could actually see advantages to Wolfram's relationship with the Maou. But he couldn't…he just could not bring himself to truly be happy for them. He wanted Yuuri for his own, needed him too much, loved him too deeply for that.

So, what was he to do now? There was no way to unhear what he had heard the previous night in the corridor. There was no way for him to pretend that Wolfram and Yuuri's relationship might be the better choice. If Wolfram insisted on behaving so dishonorably, why shouldn't he, Conrad, step in and show the Maou what real love is? _Ah, the selfish wants of a selfish man_, he thought. He had waited, it seemed, forever, for Yuuri to notice him as something more than a father-figure to replace his own, dear father when he was away from Earth. He had patiently waited for the King to grow into the man he would someday become. _And what had his waiting accomplished_, he wondered. Not much if it meant that Yuuri would withdraw from him, exclude him from his thoughts, and turn away from the love that Conrad so desperately wanted to give him. How many times had he heard Yuuri say the words, _third time lucky_, or _third time's the charm_? More than he could count. But still, that part of him that was a direct result of being Cheri-sama's child held onto a hope—slim though that hope might be in these desperate times—that the third time would be his time—Conrad's own happily ever after. He believed in love. He believed in the goodness of people, despite all the evidence he'd seen to the contrary. But, above all, he believed in Yuuri.

Some of humankind, on earth, believed that the entirety of existence was created by one being, one God that ruled over all creation. They spoke of a myth where, when that God created man, he took a rib from the man's side and used it to create a woman—a partner so that he would no longer be alone in the world. Conrad rubbed at his side, absently, wondering about the connection between two beings, one created from the bone of the other, so close as to be a part of one another. Surely that first man must have felt an ache like this—the loss of something that had been inside of him. It would make sense then that man would spend his life searching for the missing part of himself that would once again make him whole, complete. That's how some humans explained the need to find a partner and make a life. It was a fanciful story, to Conrad's thinking, but the ache in his chest—the pain in his heart—resulting from his separation from Yuuri that began long before the king left the castle, made him wonder if there wasn't some amount of truth to the fable. He was, himself, incomplete without Yuuri near to him.

"Yuuri, I miss you," Conrad sighed into the fresh morning air, willing the wind to take his words to the young man he loved with his entire being. "Please, hear me. I need you, Yuuri. You've been gone too long. Please, Yuuri, come home. I'll be waiting for you."

--O.o.O—

When the Maou awakened, Yozak was pleased to see that his eyes weren't as red as they'd been before. The boy stretched and they moved apart without the embarrassment the spy had initially feared the young man would show. Somewhere over the past days, they had grown into an understanding. Yuuri trusted him, Yozak knew that. And he was glad he could be a support for the man he cared for so deeply. Then the hardened soldier, cool-under-pressure secret agent did what he thought was right under the circumstances. He took the boy fishing.

Those were, for Yozak, happy, unspoiled hours. The bursts of conversation, the smatterings of memories shared flowed easily between the two—the pauses never awkward, the silences shared as happily as the words. He tucked away each moment as a memory to be cherished, to be taken out in future when life would turn again and he would be frightened, or lonely. If nothing else, he would remember the time that he had been the one Yuuri needed to confide in, the one to whom Yuuri had given his friendship. The young man was not healed, Yozak knew that. That would come with time and the patient love of another man, a worthy man, and Yozak didn't think he could give Yuuri up to anyone other than Conrad—no one else could deserve him. But, for now, the boy was smiling and that meant everything to the tall, gentle-spirited half-mazoku.

Yuuri paused at one point, looking out over the water, his head cocked to the side, as though listening to something. Whatever it was that held the King's attention remained a secret though, because he simply nodded his head gently, then returned his concentration to the fishing rod in his hand.

It was dusk before they left the river, each carrying a string of small fish. Before they'd packed up their gear, Yozak taught Yuuri how to clean and gut the animals, preparing them to become supper. The boy's first attempts at scaling the fish were…enjoyable to watch, but it didn't take him long to get the hang of it. Then, after Yozak built the fire, he watched as Yuuri carefully threaded their dinner onto the sticks he'd chosen and set them near the flames to cook. Yozak spent the time in between cleaning up the campsite and preparing to leave the next morning—without looking like he was doing that, because he didn't want Yuuri to become anxious about having to go back to Blood Pledge Castle. Finally, with the chores complete, and the fish suitably charred (Yuuri had, in fact, set them a little too close to the fire, but Yozak knew the only way to learn was by doing), he sat next to the Maou as they shared another meal.

"You've been really good to me," Yuuri said suddenly. "I just want to say thanks. Thank you for being my friend."

Yozak licked his fingers and nodded. "I like you, Yuuri. I'd do anything in the world for you if I could. Being your friend? That's never been difficult."

"I want…I want to be strong like you, like Conrad." The boy continued, staring at his plate. "You guys are always protecting me. I want…I want to be able to stand on my own."

Yozak knew what the young man meant. He was talking about Wolfram. "You are strong, kiddo. Stronger than you know. You're going to get past this, and we're going to help you."

"I know. Still, I…I don't know what will happen if I can't waken him."

Again, without needing explanation, Yozak understood the king was talking about the Maou who slept inside him.

"I've never had any maryoku, Yuuri. I don't know how it works, but Gwendal—or Gunter—even Ulrike-sama. They can help, I'm sure of it."

"I don't know what I'd have done without you, Yozak."

"Good thing you don't have to find out, eh? I'm not leaving, Yuuri. I'll follow wherever you go."

Yozak wasn't prepared for the kiss. Not that it was much of a kiss. The boy just leaned over and pressed his lips to the corner of the spy's mouth—the only part of his mouth he could reach. The tall man felt his heart stop. He turned slowly, keeping his expression open and friendly. The look on the young man's face nearly brought Yozak to tears. He looked so lonely, so hopeful and anxious.

There are times in a man's life when he knows, just knows that he's reached a point of decision. Looking into Yuuri's eyes, Yozak knew, just as he knew his own name, that all he needed to do was move—close the gap between them and press his lips to the Maou's—and the boy would melt into his arms. From there, he would enfold him in his embrace and the young man would respond to his touches, his caresses and the evening would be spent in mutual discovery—Yuuri discovering that sex and love can be beautiful, and Yozak discovering what it meant to be needed. He knew it. He could see it—the unspoken question, the ultimate offer—all reflected in Yuuri's dark eyes.

But.

Because he was a man, full-grown, and experienced, Yozak could also see the following morning, and the days after. Sure, Yuuri would wake up, probably happier than he had been in months, but the realization of what he had done would start to dawn on him. He would remember that it was Conrad that he loved. He would attach to the orange-haired spy though, still erroneously believing that Conrad would reject him, but the truth would be discovered the moment the Maou laid eyes on Conrad again. Then there would come the awkward silences, and the guilt he carried now would be nothing compared to the guilt Yuuri would feel for seeking solace in Yozak's arms. For his part, the spy was moved. The young man was more than a temptation. He was, after all, the man Yozak loved.

_But._

Yozak's honor, his sense of what was right, his very core would not allow him to betray the affections of either man. Even if this might be his only chance to ever feel the kind of love he, too, had been wanting, he had to refuse. It wasn't him that Yuuri wanted, and he knew it. He couldn't be satisfied, either, by standing in Conrad's place this time. He had more pride in himself than that—he wanted to be loved for himself alone.

So, he smiled down on the young king and gently closed the door on the opportunity set before him. "Your Majesty," he said, forcing his expression to take on a sweet-natured, teasing aspect. "I do believe you'll make me blush!"

Then he laughed, wrapping his arm around Yuuri's shoulders and deftly turning what would have been a disastrous mistake into one of friendly, collegial affection. It broke his heart to do it, but, he couldn't let the Maou do something he'd regret for the rest of his life. He knew that Yuuri would thank him for it later—even if the words were never spoken. The king was in a dark, frightening place and his longing for affection and reassurance was completely natural. Yozak had experienced his share of pain, and knew what it meant to crave contact with another living being—to believe that you're worthy of love and to find what feels…normal and good. He didn't blame the boy. He didn't even think Yuuri knew what he was really doing. If anything at all, he loved him more for it.

He pulled the younger man close to his side, resting his chin on his head, and allowed Yuuri time to pull himself together. "We have to start back tomorrow," he whispered against the Maou's dark hair.

"I…I know. I think I am ready. But—"

"But…?"

"You will be there, won't you? I mean, I want to do this myself. I want to be strong, but when things get bad—you'll be there, right?"

"Of course I will, Kiddo. I'll be there, and Gunter and Gwendal—Conrad, too."

"I don't want him to know," Yuuri sounded so forlorn.

"The truth will come out, Heika. You've always shown us that, by example. Don't you trust Conrad?"

"With my life! It's just that…well, it's just everything."

"He loves you, Yuuri. He loves you in a way that is unshakable. You may be the sun for him, but I promise you that he is the whole earth. He is solid and steady. Give him a chance. I'm sure he misses you terribly. Has he ever let you down?"

"Never," the boy whispered.

"He's not about to start now. So, let's get some sleep, ok?"

"Ok. You…You'll stay with me again?"

Yozak smiled. The silent offers from earlier were not being renewed. This was Yuuri's peace offering—his olive branch, and the spy knew it. So, he nodded, and helped Yuuri get ready for bed, then tucked him safely into his arms. The boy needed all the sleep he could get, because the next days ahead were going to prove very trying, of that Yozak was certain. He calculated the time. If they left shortly after daybreak they would be back at the castle by nightfall. They'd gotten a late start when the trip began, but this time, there was a purpose to returning with some haste.

Long after the embers of the fire outside burned to ash, and Yuuri was sleeping soundly, Yozak crept from the tent and made his way to his packs. Early the previous morning, before he had caught breakfast and before Yuuri awakened, he had slipped into the village and obtained a carrier pigeon. Using the light of the bright, white moon, Yozak wrote a note, attached it to the pigeon, then let it fly. "Hurry home," he called after the bird, quiet so as not to wake the slumbering king.

Yozak cast one last, longing glance at the moon—it would have been so beautiful to make love to Yuuri underneath such a glorious sky. Then he firmly locked away all of those thoughts, and returned to the tent determined to be the man Yuuri didn't even know he needed—the king's friend. It was the only true gift he could give him.

--O.o.O—

Conrad held his peace as Wolfram growled and ranted at their older brother.

"I don't see why you have to send _me_ on this mission. Isn't there someone else who can do it—I don't appreciate playing errand boy to a servant! What about Weller? He's always ready to perform some do-gooder task."

"No," Gwendal replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It requires the presence of a strong magic user. I cannot go, thanks to Heika's unscheduled trip back to earth, and Gunter is unwell. Conrad has no maryoku. So, it must be you. Believe me, you're not my first choice either."

"And why not?" Wolfram huffed. "I'm just as good with magic as you are, Gwendal!"

"Then this assignment should be nothing for you. Just go to the village, find the theif and retrieve the blood stone—it shouldn't take more than two days. Take your men with you."

"Fine," Wolfram muttered. "But I still don't like it."

"You don't have to _like_ your duty, Wolfram. You just have to do it."

Conrad waited until the exchange was over, quietly keeping his place in the corner, near the window. When the door was closed and he'd judged enough time had passed, he turned to his brother.

"I hadn't heard anything about the blood stone being stolen."

"It wasn't stolen, exactly," Gunter said, peeking his head into the room. "Consider it more likely that it was moved, in error, to a location a day's ride away."

"I see." Conrad shook his head. "Are you two ever going to tell me what is going on?"

"I had a pigeon mail message very early this morning," Gwendal said, as though that explained everything.

"…and?" Conrad asked.

"It will be better for everyone, I think, if Wolfram is absent from the castle for a few days." Gunter's voice was thoughtful. "While there were no details in the message that stated that conclusively—I simply thought it would be better to be safe than sorry."

Conrad narrowed his eyes and glared at his brother and former teacher. "At some point, I would really appreciate being brought into the loop on this one, gentlemen. Especially since I'm certain it involves Heika in some way."

"So headstrong," Gunter murmured. And Conrad wasn't sure if the adjutant was speaking about him or Wolfram—the sound of hooves clattering over pavers was enough to let him know that his younger brother and his company had left the stables. "Always in a hurry."

"Still," Gunter said as though coming out of his thoughts. "The late afternoon sun is beautiful and warm, and it looks like the wind has changed. It's moving in from the south. Pity Wolfram has ridden West—the rain will catch him. Look Conrad, do you see how it bends the flowers on the hillside there?"

Irritated beyond words, Conrad knew Gunter would not stop until he came to look out the window. He glanced in the direction Gunter was pointing, but he noticed nothing particularly exciting, except the tall sunflowers bending in the breeze, the glow of the late afternoon sun dappling the shadows with brilliant points of light.

"There's nothing there," he muttered.

"Look again," Gwendal said, softly, having silently stolen up to take a place behind him.

Conrad frowned, and looked one more time through the window. Then he saw it, far in the distance, movement that seemed out of place. A brilliant blaze of orange illuminated by the sun caught his attention and then a smaller shadow beside it…finally, the shape of two horses. Conrad didn't stay to see more—he was already running.

Yuuri had suggested walking the horses the last little way before heading into the castle. He knew he was avoiding the inevitable, but ever since Blood Pledge Castle had come into view, rising like a specter in his dreams, he had begun to find little excuses to prolong the journey back. He knew that Yozak was indulging him, but, he just wasn't ready to face Wolfram, or the rest of his problems.

"It was a good trip, wasn't it? In the end?"

"I think so," Yozak said simply, smiling down at him.

"I…I want to ask…do you think we could do it again sometime?"

The older man cocked his head to the side and smiled. "Sure, if you want to."

"I liked fishing. And I liked being with you. I want to do it again."

"Then we will."

"Promise?"

"Of course, kiddo."

"Good." Yuuri said and turned back toward the castle. He was looking at his feet, trying to figure out some way to go even more slowly. He didn't know what he was feeling, but it wasn't the same sort of overwhelming fear as before. He knew he was going to be safe now, or at least safer than he was, but he was so frightened of what would happen once everyone found out the truth about him.

"I guess I have to tell them, huh?" he mused.

"Yes, Yuuri. There's no way around it. But you're not alone anymore, ok?"

"Ok."

He trudged onward thinking about how best to enter the castle. He wanted nothing more than to see Conrad, before everything exploded into the nightmare he knew was coming. He said as much to Yozak.

"Well, then, kiddo—looks like you got your wish."

Yuuri looked up at his tall, orange-haired friend, confused. The man nodded toward their left. Yuuri followed his gaze, then took a step back in surprise. Striding through the field, the sunflowers wavering around his thighs, making him lift his knees slightly higher than he would normally, was a surprised-looking Conrad. Yuuri swallowed, his throat suddenly tight. He had never seen the soldier look more handsome than he did at that moment, with the afternoon sun turning his brown hair into something like burnished copper, his jacket unbuttoned, and his shirt open at the collar to expose the "v" at the base of the strong column of his throat. Yuuri was frozen in place, staring at the man. Conrad finally stopped, his eyes suddenly bright with an emotion that Yuuri couldn't identify—he was still too far away.

"H—Heika?" the man asked, as though disbelieving his own eyes.

Yuuri felt Yozak reach down and take the Ao's reins from his slack fingers. "Go to him, kiddo." The man whispered. "He's waiting for you."

Yuuri felt like he was rooted to the spot, unable to break from the hold Conrad's gaze had on him. "Heika?" the man repeated, almost…sadly. Then a tiny frown. Then a shuttering of his glorious eyes. _No. NO!_ Yuuri thought. This was _NOT_ the way he wanted to greet the man he cared for so deeply. He was not going to let anything ruin this one moment. Conrad lifted his hand then, only slightly, just the barest of movements.

Yuuri saw his fingers tremble.

Then he was half-running, half-stumbling through the tall flowers, tripping and righting himself again, and almost falling over until, finally, he gave a small leap and landed against Conrad's chest.

"Heika!" Conrad gasped, his arms gingerly, tentatively coming to encircle Yuuri in a gentle hug.

"It's Yuuri, Conrad," the young king said softly. "After all this time, I still have to remind you? Try to remember it, Ok? Anyway, I'm home."

He felt Conrad's arms convulse around him, holding him very tight. Maybe…maybe Yozak had been right. He found, too, that he could bear the pain as long as it was Conrad's arms holding him, Conrad's chest he could snuggle against. Just this one perfect moment. Just this.

"_Yuuri_," His knight's voice was thick and unsteady. Perhaps it was the way Conrad had pressed a cheek to his.

"Oh, Yuuri, welcome home!"

* * *

_And there we have chapter three. Yuuri has made it home, and there will surely be a lot to be discussed before Wolfram can be confronted. I don't know about you, but...I think Conrad was pretty glad to see him. I'm hopeful now that Yuuri will be able to begin to heal from wounds both mental and physical. Sorry about the delay in posting the chapter today, I was, once again, summoned to the family seat. However, I will dive into chapter 4 now, and hopefully see you all tomorrow. As ever, truly, thank you for reading this far. All comments are welcome, of course, but I just hope you found something in it of interest. SN_


	4. Chapter 4

_For those who are unfamiliar with the poet, W.B. Yeats, the title of this chapter comes from his poem, When You Are Old. The middle stanza reads as follows:_

_How many loved your moments of glad grace,_

_And loved your beauty with love false or true,_

_But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,_

_And loved the sorrows of your changing face._

_I have had this poem in mind while writing this fic—I think it applies especially to this chapter and might be applied to all the characters in different ways. Thank you so much for your reviews for the last chapter, I will answer as soon as I can, but I had to get on top of this chappie—and I wrote as fast as possible, for fear that MintyFlake might beat me with Cheri-sama's whip if I delayed in updating…hopefully this comes up to scratch! So, as usual, my disclaimer: Kyou Kara Maou? Nope. Don't own it. So, here we go, and I'll see you at the bottom of the page._

* * *

**Chapter Four: The Sorrows of Your Changing Face**

If a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, then does a conversation that will alter the course of your life begin with a single word? Yuuri wondered this as he sat in Gwendal's office, staring at his hands, searching for the right way to begin his story. The too-brief embrace he'd shared with Conrad was over, and night had fallen heavily on the inhabitants of Blood Pledge Castle. While he was surrounded in his soldier's warmth, illuminated by the light of the man's smile, he was able to pretend that everything was all right. But, things were definitely not ok, and now he was the object of intense study by Gwendal, demonstrative concern by Gunter, quiet support by Yozak, and…well, he couldn't define what he was to Conrad at the moment.

He was the Maou in the man's opinion—that much was certain. But, when he looked into Conrad's gentle, warm eyes, Yuuri thought he saw…something. A silent promise, maybe even a beginning and he didn't want to extinguish that spark. However, as soon as he opened his mouth, he knew that everything would change. So, there he sat, silent, on the couch, realizing that his life would be defined in this moment, even if other moments came after as they surely must. There was the Yuuri who existed before he told the truth, and the Yuuri who would exist after. The instant death of the one and simultaneous birth of the other would alter the shape of his life, his rule as the Maou, and his role as Shibuya Yuuri, boy-king of the Demon Nation.

At least, he thought, he didn't yet have to face Wolfram. And the thought of the blonde man gave him pause once again. How had things come this far, he wondered? In the early years, he'd been annoyed by Wolfram's tantrums, embarrassed by his overt displays of affection, but in some ways that unease stemmed from the fact that Yuuri had found the attention flattering. For the whole of his life, up until he came to Shin Makoku, he had never so much as had a stolen kiss, much less a relationship. Then, of course, there was the entire _"hey, it turns out that I really do like men"_ epiphany. That had taken him some time to digest. He had, certainly, like every other boy he supposed, always felt a kindred spirit amongst those of his own gender. On earth, Yuuri was a student, a baseball boy—and it was natural that he spend most of his time with boys his own age. He had never even had a chance to talk to a girl, much less flirt with one, but he had always assumed that the day would come when that happened. It wasn't until he had come to Shin Makoku and was suddenly thrust into the position of instant sex symbol to both genders that he really thought about his own preferences.

It had come sneaking, that little epiphany, like a cat burglar, into his brain. Small clues lead the way—simply ignored or justified at first. _Conrad_. Easily explained. Not only was the man dashing, heroic—the very embodiment of all things valiant—he was handsome and kind. And he was Yuuri's protector, almost family, so it was natural that Yuuri should have an affection for the man, and his admiration of the knight explained the excitement he felt when he was around. _Gwendal_. It had been cold that night in the desert when they had shared a little body warmth. That Gwendal smelled nice and that his arm had felt strong and reassuring around Yuuri's shoulders, well, that only meant that the older man used nice soap and was good to have around in a sticky situation. _Gunter_. Sure, his ways were often affected and dramatic, but you couldn't deny that he had a beauty that transcended gender. Yuuri had never seen a woman as pretty as Gunter—not even Cheri-sama. So, it's not like he was attracted to his teacher, he was simply beautiful in the same way that a diamond is simply a diamond. It just exists. Even _Wolfram_, with his striking features and brilliant eyes. He was not exactly handsome, but he was pretty—almost delicate in his features and before everything changed…Yuuri often liked looking at the young man, in the same sort of way he could admire beautiful art. He had admired the mazoku's courage and his skills in battle. He had tried to be his friend, but Wolfram would never let go of his role as fiancé.

It had taken the dreams to make Yuuri realize that he preferred the company of men for more than just sports and companionship. He glanced at Conrad, letting his eyes take in the man's strong frame. No, after the dreams began, he was no longer able to deny his feelings, telling himself that it was hero-worship that made his heart pound every time he was near to the man. Then, of course, there was the fact that Yuuri was often pursued by women, but no matter how beautiful the lady might have been, there was just something…wrong. He remembered the Lady Elizabeth. Yes, she had been beautiful, but in the end he was more interested in the young woman taking Wolfram off his hands than he was in marrying her himself. Flurin-san, Leila, Cheri-sama, Anissina-dono, and the other women of great beauty that he'd met…none of them really turned his head. And finally, on Bandarbia island, when Adelbert had tossed him off the cliff to what he was sure was his certain death, he found himself in Conrad's strong arms—his soldier absorbing the impact and handling the tricky principle of inertia by rolling him across the forest floor, protecting Yuuri with his own body. Looking into Conrad's eyes then, and feeling the insistent pull of his own heart—Yuuri knew the truth, and knew what and who he wanted. Then, despite all the adventures and excitement, things started to go downhill for him—even if no one else knew it.

And so here he sat, staring at his hands, and trying to decide what words to say to begin a conversation that would not only hurt every person present in the room, but could change everything forever.

"It can't be helped," he said quietly.

Then he stood up and began to unbutton his shirt.

--O.o.O—

Gwendal Von Voltaire accepted himself—his flaws and his strengths—for the man he knew himself to be. He was taciturn. He found it difficult to express his emotions. He liked quiet and avoided loud conflict as much as possible. His mind was of a serious bent, given to study and observation. It was hard for him to show, for example, the mirth he sometimes felt when he heard a particularly funny joke. And if he found it difficult to laugh when someone else made a witty remark, he was wholly incapable of making such remarks himself. Whenever he told a joke, he'd noticed, people looked at him in confusion—somehow his words always came out wrong. He was logical, ordered, precise, and had an insight often bordering on brilliance. He was also short-tempered, judgmental, and easily irritated. And his timing where it concerned anything save military planning was abysmal.

How then he had come to love someone so much the opposite of himself was one of the mysteries of the world that he realized he would never understand. Gunter was everything that he was not. Gunter was demonstrative, overt, even excessive in his affections. The love the adjutant had for the Maou was very real—his tears, his wringing hands, his vows of eternal constancy—none of them were disingenuous. Gwendal understood this about his partner, and accepted it without jealousy because he knew that no matter how deeply Gunter might worship the Maou, he was a constant, faithful lover. Besides, if he was honest with himself, and Gwendal was _always_ honest with himself, the arrival of the Maou in Shin Makoku had given him a little bit of a break from Gunter's more romantic ravings. Gwendal found such displays embarrassing, but in his heart, he cherished those moments as well. So, he calmly and quietly lived his life, becoming even more stern and forbidding as the years sped away because he had Gunter to be his foil—to say the words he couldn't bring to his lips, to show the love that baffled him when it came to expression, and to be mild when Gwendal himself was forced to be the destroyer—again. The military prowess of Shin Makoku had been nurtured and maintained by Gwendal's constant vigilance. As a consequence, whether he wanted to or not, he lived a life of conflict. So, while in his heart he might feel those tender, sweet sentiments, he couldn't show them—not openly. Therefore, he knitted to help purify his soul, and in the privacy of his bedchamber he treated Gunter with a respect akin to reverence. Those were his ways of showing his true heart because deep inside, Gwendal Von Voltaire was a gentle, loving man.

It was this part of himself, the true part of himself, which caused him to stare at the young king's mauled flesh with a look of horror he was unable to conceal. He knew the marks for what they were, but his brain seemed to refuse to catalogue them. How could anyone…_how could anyone ever dare_…harm someone so innocent as the Maou?

If it was the pride of the Mazoku—that disdain of humans shared by so many of his kind—that initially set Gwendal at cross purposes with the new Maou, then he had learned over time to accept the boy's desires for a united peace until one day he woke up to find that those desires had wound their way into his heart and become his own. Yuuri-heika was reckless, never thinking of himself or his position and try as he might, Gwendal had never been able to impress upon the boy the importance of his very existence to Shin Makoku. No. The young man stubbornly refused to become a complacent, idling ruler. He wouldn't dally in the intrigues offered by a large court of retainers—barely anyone apart from soldiers and his immediate staff lived in Blood Pledge Castle. The kid even refused to indulge himself or spend what he thought was needless money on extravagances. In fact, the only duty the king performed with ruthless consistency was the reconciliation of his own personal expenditures against the national budget. Yuuri wanted to save every coin—from the largest to the smallest for the good of his people.

"H—heika," he said, unable to go further.

"Your majesty!" Gunter exclaimed, his voice nearly inaudible since shock had robbed him of volume. Gwendal shared a look with his lover—as the oldest men in the room, they'd perhaps seen more, but this was clearly as bewildering to the adjutant as it was to Gwendal.

Gunter fell to his knees in front of the young king, his hands extending before him and moving, making shapes, as though he couldn't quite figure out where to touch the king without harming him further.

"Who…who did this to you, Heika?" Gunter whispered, once again turning lost, despondent eyes to Gwendal. The question was clear—how had they both missed this? Gunter, who worshipped the Maou vociferously, and Gwendal who loved the boy, too, in his own, quiet way. "How did this happen?" the pale-haired man made no attempt to swipe away his tears. Gwendal left his desk, needing to move, to appease the painful energy gathering in his muscles_. Gunter's tears_. Nothing could move Gwendal to action quite like his lover's heartfelt sobs. Yes, Gunter was crying, but it wasn't the dramatic, high-pitched wails he let loose when he felt left out of an adventure, or when Yuuri-Heika skipped out on lessons. These were the deep, silent sobs of a heartbroken man. Gwendal understood, felt what his lover felt. The Maou had been injured, come to great harm, and under their watch. No matter who might have landed the blows, Gwendal knew it was his responsibility.

The king stared at the floor, his right hand shoved into his pocket, and the tensed muscles in his forearm indicating he was gripping something tightly, squeezing it as hard as he could. "Please don't stare at me," the Maou whispered. "I just knew I wouldn't be able to start talking until you could see for yourselves. I'm putting my shirt back on now."

Gwendal knew it wouldn't matter what the king was wearing—fifty layers of armor could never erase the images now burned into his memory. The bruises, bites, and, when the young man turned around to slide into his shirt, the snaking lines of deep scratches running the length of the boy's back would never leave him. Those marks would be his shame, his private torment until he died. He watched as Yuuri returned his hand to his pocket, gripping whatever little keepsake he had secreted there to help him through this moment.

"Yuuri?" Conrad's voice was shaking in both grief and rage. Gwendal snapped his eyes to his younger brother—thankful that the man had no maryoku at his fingertips. "Did Wolfram do this to you?"

There was knowledge in Conrad's dark eyes, causing Gwendal to take a step back. _Wolfram_? Wolfram! No. Such a thing would be impossible. His youngest brother was the king's fiancé—honor-bound to guard the King with the same tenacity with which Gwendal himself watched over Gunter.

"It's…complicated," the maou said, in a tone that indicated he'd said the same thing before. Gwendal's gaze landed on Yozak. The tall spy was leaning against the doorframe, a frown more severe than Gwendal's own etched on his face. _He knew_. He knew the whole truth whatever it was. Conrad's heartbreak was shining from his eyes now. He looked to Gwendal, then followed the gaze to look at Yozak. Gwendal knew his brother had reached the same conclusion as he himself had when the spy merely inclined his head and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Please don't cry, Gunter," the Maou said, smoothing his free hand over Gunter's cheek. "It's not your fault."

Gunter shook his head, his throat working in small convulsions. Gwendal felt rooted to his spot, unable to assist either of the men in any meaningful way. "Heika—why did you not come to me, to any of us?" he asked.

"I—I just couldn't. At first, I thought I could make it better, and then I…well…I just couldn't. You're so strong, Gwendal—all of you and you work so hard, and you're always saving me from everything. I've been such a burden for so long. I…I'm sorry to be such a disappointment."

"No!" Conrad's gasp drew the room's attention. "Yuuri, you're…everything to us—_to me_. You could never disappoint anyone. We—_I_—have failed you."

The young man shook his head, drawing his hand from his pocket, clutching his left hand over his right. He sat down on the edge of the couch, his neck still bent to hide his eyes behind his hair. "Don't…don't take this away from me, Conrad. I need—need to accept my part in this."

"But…Heika, many of those injuries are old by the look of them. How long has this been going on?" Gwendal asked as he reached down to grasp Gunter by the shoulders. He eased the still sobbing man to his feet and settled him on the far side of the sofa, understanding his lover's need to be near the king.

"It got bad about six months ago, but, if I am honest about it…it's been coming on for a long time."

Conrad took his place at the Maou's side, perching on the arm of the couch and resting a light hand on the younger man's shoulder—Gwendal couldn't help but notice his brother's hand had found one of the few places where there would be no bruise. The king balanced his elbows on his knees, hands still clutched together. He appeared tense, as though he thought about shrugging the soldier's hand off, but then he leaned to the side and rested his cheek against Conrad's muscled thigh. Gwendal locked his gaze onto his brother. The knight nodded once—he would be the king's strength for as long as it took for the boy to get through this night and every day following. It was a paltry comfort for the General—too much like closing the barn door after the horses had escaped—but at least the king would be safe now.

Gwendal returned to his seat behind the great oak desk that had been his father's—and his father's before that, reaching back into the generations of the Von Voltaire family almost as far as the days of Shinou himself. He kept his hands beneath the top, fingers making mad gestures as though he were knitting at the speed of light, but he managed to keep his face devoid of expression while the king told his story.

He swallowed his rage when he listened to how his brother had abused the trust of his tender-hearted king. He bit his tongue every time the Maou insisted that it was his own fault. He looked away each time the boy's haunted eyes darted around the room as though seeking escape from his shame and guilt. He suppressed the need to vomit when the ruler explained that he'd just given up after a while, believing that he actually owed something to Wolfram in exchange for a few years worth of petty farce—because the engagement had never been more than that. Everyone…_EVERYONE_…in the castle knew that. For the love of Shinou, he had, himself, wagered an exceedingly large sum against the date the king would actually call an end to the charade and slap the shit out of his _other_ brother. How could he have treated the situation in such a flippant manner when all the time, behind the solid door of the royal chamber, his king was in tears, suffering? He squeezed his eyes closed, remembering his own words to Conrad. What part of him had ever wanted to believe that the King and Wolfram had somehow reached an understanding and were starting to care for one another as lovers? What had happened to the Maou, whether the young man ever acknowledged it as rape or not, had nothing to do with love.

_It had to do with power_.

And if there was one thing that Gwendal understood, it was power. He understood the pursuit of it, the fear brought on by the lack on it, and the lengths to which men would sometimes go to attain it.

"I'm…I'm…going to step down as Maou," the king choked out at the end of his story. "You…You've all been so good to me, but I can't be the king anymore."

"Heika! What are you talking about?" Gunter exclaimed, his whole body trembling.

"I…well, what happened with Wolfram is only part of it. I, somehow and I don't know why, but, I can't summon the Maou inside me anymore. I can feel him—" the boy's tone softened in sadness. "He's still inside me, but, like I told Yozak—he's asleep. Or I just can't reach him. But, how it happened doesn't much matter I guess, the point is, I don't have any magic—no maryoku—and the maou, well, I can't reach him. I can't be king without him. I'll step down. Gwendal, you'll have to gather everyone and choose someone else to rule over Shin Makoku."

"Heika—"

"Don't call me—" The boy interrupted Gunter, but Gwendal's lover shook his head sharply.

"No, you are my Heika and you always, _always_ will be. I cannot, ever, atone for my part in this that has allowed you to be so hurt, but neither can I accept this decision. You are my king, and I am your loyal subject. I have failed you, I know, and I can never hope for your forgiveness, but, please, Heika, don't give up on Shin Makoku. We need you. To give up the throne would be to accept defeat and I don't believe you will be defeated, Yuuri-heika. I believe in you."

The king frowned a moment, staring at Gunter as though he couldn't quite understand why the man would fight for him. The Maou clearly believed that he would be abandoned now, by the very people that had failed him for months. Still, his heart, his wonderfully gentle, forgiving heart was clear in his eyes. There was no blame for anyone other than himself in his expression. "How can you believe in me, Gunter? I'm…disgusting. I let you all down—wasn't strong enough to stand up for myself and I just let these things happen. How could you ever trust me with this country, again? I'm…spoiled. D—Dirty."

_That was it._ Gwendal slammed his hands against the top of his desk, his maryoku flaring from his skin and reducing the ancient piece of furniture, the heirloom and legacy of his fathers, into kindling and matchsticks with a deafening crash. He shot up from his chair and strode over to the far wall of his office, ignoring books and his useless, stupid, foolish animals and grabbed his sword from its place on the wall instead.

"Gwendal! What are you doing?" the king cried out, shrinking back against Conrad and staring at him with wide, terrified eyes.

"I'm going to kill him," Gwendal ground out, gripping his sword hard enough to leave the impression of his fingertips in the scabbard.

"I'm going to kill him," he repeated, through clenched teeth. His jaw ached, every muscle protesting the tension. He grasped for the words he wanted. "A man doesn't…hurt—" He shook his head and tried again. "A man…loves, a man protects, a man is—" He gave up. He would never be able to express himself.

He flinched as he felt the Maou's thin arms encircle his waist. Something dropped from the boy's hands as he squeezed himself against Gwendal's back. "No. No, Gwendal. I can't let you do that. I won't let you…harm your brother. You can't do that—you would never be the same. I…depend on you, Gwendal, to be who you are. You scare me sometimes, but I know you are good on the inside. Please, listen to me. You can't do this, not for me—never for me. I did this…it's my fault."

"No!" Gwendal growled, turning to face the king. "The fault lies with others, Heika. It lies with me. I…I raised Wolfram, as much as our mother—as much as Conrad. I am the eldest—and you are…" He clenched his jaw again, searching for the right words.

He tried to step back, to give himself space from the intensity of his ruler's kindness. He didn't deserve the sympathetic look on the boy's face—his understanding. He brought his foot down and something yielded to his boot heel. He looked down, sweeping his leg to the side, to reveal a small, lumpy bundle at his feet. Everything slowed as he stared at it, raising a brow. Whatever it was, it had been that which the king had been clutching so tightly. He bent down to one knee and grasped the small object between his fingers. Raising his hand to his face, he stared in disbelief. It was the small kitty he had knitted for the boy the first year he had come to Shin Makoku. It barely resembled its former shape, clearly having been held tightly for a long time. He looked up, tears coming to his eyes to mirror those in the eyes of the Maou.

The boy gave him a tremulous, watery smile. "Sometimes…sometimes it helps to have something to hug."

Looking up into the face of his king, the brave boy who had endured so much to become the Maou and who was now putting aside his own pain to prevent Gwendal from taking rash, reckless action, the older Mazoku finally broke. As if he might shatter the slim young man, Gwendal carefully wrapped his arms around the boy and pressed his cheek to his stomach.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry for everything."

He felt the Maou's hand come to settle on the top of his head, a gesture of comfort and absolution. "I will make a deal with you," the king replied. "I will continue on as the Maou if you will…help me, Gwendal."

"Always, Heika. You are my king, and I will stay by your side."

"Yuuri," he whispered, his slim fingers ruffling Gwendal's hair in mock chastisement.

"Yuuri," Gwendal corrected himself, and straightened his shoulders. Slowly coming to his feet, he turned his face aside to dash the unfamiliar wetness from his eyelashes. He took a deep breath. "The fact remains, however," he said, forcing his voice back to its usual tone. "Wolfram must be dealt with, and without delay."

"I think any decision-making can be held until the morning," Gunter said in his wise, thoughtful voice. "Perhaps it would be best if we all took some time to consider what would be the most appropriate action to take and then meet tomorrow. What is certain is that Von Bielefeld-kyo will have to answer for his actions. I cannot forgive him, Gwendal. He must not be forgiven."

"Gunter." The Maou turned to the side and reached out his hand, to grasp his advisor's fingers and squeeze them gently. "Let's all take your advice and not make any decisions tonight. I don't want anyone to say or do anything tonight that they will regret later."

"Yuuri's right," Conrad said, coming to stand before the king. He had kept silent almost the entire evening, and Gwendal wondered what his younger brother might be planning. He glanced at Yozak one more time, silently ordering the orange-haired man to keep a close watch on the King's protector.

Gwendal had surprised himself with the depth of his own anger and he could not begin to imagine what would happen if Conrad's fury were released.

--O.o.O—

Conrad had never felt anything like it before—this fire burning inside his chest. The sensation of futile impotence coupled with blinding rage threatened to tip his balance and unleash a part of himself that he thought had died on the battlefield at Ruttenberg. All he wanted to do was destroy—reduce everything in his path to ashes until he found the source of Yuuri's pain and dismantled it—_him_—bone by bone, muscle by muscle until there was nothing left. Perhaps it was no wonder then that his hand was shaking when he raised it to brush the hair from Yuuri's face.

They were standing in the corridor, both staring at the door to the Royal Bedchamber. When they had left Gwendal's office, Conrad had said nothing, but fallen into step just behind and slightly to the left of the Maou. Conventions were hard to break, and so many years' habit of taking a protective position behind the ruler of Shin Makoku had left an indelible mark on the soldier.

"You don't have to come with me, Conrad," the young man had whispered, his voice breaking on the older man's name. "I understand that…that things are different now."

That was in the hall, just past the library. Conrad had paused, standing underneath the impossibly hideous portrait of the ninth Maou—the one that had been a gift from a friendly nation and therefore had to be displayed somewhere in the castle. The table to his left, holding a vase of flowers that wanted refreshing, was cast in shadow and it was, perhaps, the least romantic place in the world for his confession—but he couldn't let Yuuri spend one more moment in doubt. He had to tell the king how he felt, and he had to tell him right at that moment.

"Yes, Yuuri," Conrad had agreed, his tone quiet and serious. "Things are different now."

Whatever tiny light that had remained in the king's eyes dimmed, flickering like a guttering candle.

"I have spent a large portion of my life paying heed to duty and responsibility. When you came into my life, I was a different man from the one you have known. I was not the Conrad you have come to know—I am a better man now, because of you. I have no right to say this, to hope you could ever forgive me for not protecting you, but whether or not I have the right is immaterial to the fact that I do hope. I live in hope, Yuuri, and have since I first met you. I hope that the future you desire will come to pass. I hope the forgiveness you have extended to everyone you meet will stretch a little further to touch me once again—I, who am the least deserving of your forgiveness. I hope…that you will not reject me, because…because I am in love with you and I cannot hide it anymore. I cannot go back to the way we were before—things are different now, as you say."

"You…you love me?" the young man had shaken his head slowly. "But, but you can't love me, after…everything."

"I deserve that," Conrad conceded. "I know you cannot believe me when I have failed you so completely."

"I didn't mean it that way! I mean, after everything…I've done. I'm not good enough for you. I don't deserve you." Yuuri had finished in a broken whisper.

"That is very true," Conrad had replied, capturing Yuuri's hand in his own. "You deserve a far better man than me. You deserve every good thing, every happiness, every joy that life can bring, Yuuri. I am sorry that I am so selfish, so weak-willed that I must insist that while you can do better than a common soldier, a…half-breed with no magic to offer and nothing more to his name than a sword—I cannot go on without you, without your love."

"I've always loved you. But I've ruined it…ruined everything."

Conrad had taken a deep breath, reaching inside of himself—past the walls of his reserve, his iron-control, to expose the naked need he felt. "Please don't deny me, Yuuri. I've wanted to tell you for so long, waited for the right moment. Please don't tell me it's too late and you can't love me anymore. I will do anything, be anything you need—beg if I must—but please don't turn me away. Not now."

And in that moment, in the least likeliest place of all, Conrad Weller was given the most precious gift any man could ever receive. The heart of the man he loved.

How long they walked after, he could not say for sure. All he could really say was that the time he spent holding Yuuri in the protective curve of his arm as they walked the halls, doing nothing more than sharing each other's presence was as precious as any rare jewel. Despite everything, in spite of the horrific events of the early evening, the harsh revelations and the knowledge that there was worse still to come, Conrad could not help being happy. Yuuri loved him, returned his affection in the way he most desired. He could never ask for more than that, and if it took his entire long, long life to help his king heal from his traumas, then he would count the time well spent. Yuuri loved him, and that revelation, along with the contentment it brought to his troubled mind, was all that mattered.

And they had ended up here, facing the door of the chamber where Yuuri had endured so much, and hidden so much more. Conrad hadn't the heart to open the door. He knew that once he did, the memories living inside that room would have to be faced. Yuuri had been through enough, and the soldier couldn't see the sense in making him go through any more pain tonight.

"There's nothing in that room that you need right now," he whispered, drawing Yuuri into his arms.

The boy nestled his cheek against Conrad's chest. "All I need is you."

"Do you trust me, Yuuri?" Conrad held his breath.

"Of course I trust you. What a question to ask!"

"Then…come with me?"

"Anywhere you go, Conrad."

The younger man's shy answer warmed Conrad to his very soul. He had forgotten nothing of his anger, his deep and burning need to exact retribution for what had been done to his love, but Yuuri and Yuuri's happiness was his priority now. Yuuri first, above all, and everything else after in its turn. Being a patient man, a considered and strategic man, Conrad shoved his negative emotions into a box and locked it tighter than any of the four forbidden boxes had ever been. This night he would show Yuuri, by word and action, that he could be trusted with the King's deepest fears—and he would love each one of them into oblivion if he had anything to say about it.

Threading Yuuri's arm through his own, he guided the younger man through the passageways until they came to a stop, once again, this time in front of the door to Conrad's own chamber. He knew that Yuuri had never come into his room before, usually either calling for him if he was wanted or by nature of the fact that if the Maou was up and about then Conrad tried to make sure he was always nearby. So it was with some trepidation that he opened the door, and lead the boy inside. He watched Yuuri carefully, looking for signs of panic—he didn't want the young man to think he'd brought him there for seduction—that expression of his love would wait for the right time. Instead of pulling away from him as he half-expected, Conrad was amazed to see Yuuri smile, a small, genuine smile.

"I like your room. It's like you—comfortable and cozy. A little bare, though."

"I have very few possessions, Heika," Conrad said, somewhat embarrassed by the simple room that had never bothered him before. "A soldier has to be able to move at a moment's notice."

"Conrad…" Yuuri said, not looking at the older man, but continuing his inspection of the nearly naked shelves.

"Yes…?"

"If you call me Heika one more time tonight, I'm going to wash your mouth out with soap until the pink comes off your tongue."

He couldn't help it…the image was just…funny. Conrad chuffed out a small laugh, causing Yuuri to look up in surprise. To the delight of his heart, the young man was smiling.

"Do that again," Yuuri whispered, his eyes showing a strange emotion.

"Do what?" Conrad asked, confused. Hadn't the Maou just corrected him for using the forbidden term?

"Laugh…let me hear that again."

And he couldn't say why, but the boy's expression did, indeed, cause him to chuckle again. With everything that had happened, what a thing to ask!

"I love that sound," Yuuri whispered, leaving his inspection of the small chamber and coming to stand in front Conrad.

"Then I will laugh more often, Yuuri."

Conrad let his head dip with exaggerated slowness, giving the younger man plenty of time to pull away if he wanted to, but the Maou remained where he was, his eyes closing as Conrad's lips brushed over his. The kiss was brief, no more than a gentle touch of lips, but enough for Conrad to communicate his unbreakable promise.

"I'm not trying to push you, Yuuri," he said softly, nuzzling the younger man's cheek with his nose. "I just want you to know what you mean to me."

The boy nodded, then leaned up to surprise Conrad with a shy kiss of his own. The soldier's heart pounded in his chest and felt almost like a raw youth again. His breath was ragged, his hands unsteady as he held Yuuri against his chest. He couldn't quite believe this was real, that he would actually have a chance to show Yuuri the depth of his loyalty and love.

"You must be tired," he said, kissing the top of the king's head. "Do you think you can sleep?"

"I think so, yeah. It's been…a long day."

"Yes. Yes, it has."

Conrad busied himself with finding Yuuri an extra shirt of his to wear, and pulled out an old pair of his pajama pants that were so faded that even he had forgotten what color they had originally been. Yuuri changed, moving carefully with respect to his bruises, and when he was finished, the soldier's throat ached painfully. The slim young man was swimming in his clothes, radiating a fragile trust. He climbed into Conrad's bed, moving over so that he was close to the wall. Conrad followed him, after toeing off his boots and divesting himself of his uniform. Most of the time, Conrad slept naked, it was just more comfortable. But, he slid into pajamas, the ones he had never worn, in order to reinforce without words that his room was a place where Yuuri would always be safe. He shifted in the bed that was half the size of the one the king was used to sleeping in, trying to adjust his pajama top and the boy at the same time.

"Conrad…?"

"Yes, Yuuri?" he relied, adjusting his shoulders again.

"You don't sleep in clothes, do you? I mean, you're not used to pajamas are you?"

Was it that obvious? "No. Normally I don't, but it's ok."

"Well…" The young man paused for a long moment, and Conrad held very still, waiting for him to finish his thought. "Why don't you take your shirt off at least. You'll never get any sleep if you don't."

"That's all right, Yuuri. I'll be ok. It's just an unusual sensation."

"It's all right, Conrad," the Maou said firmly. "I don't want to…be forced with each other. I don't want to feel like that anymore. You don't sleep in clothes, that's just who you are. So, take your shirt off. Consider it an order from the Maou if you like."

"I'd rather think about it as the man I love wanting me to be comfortable."

"That's true, too."

Conrad got out of bed and pulled the shirt off over his head. He walked over to the window and blew out the candle he'd left burning there. In the quiet stillness, the moonbeams casting shadows on the wall, the soldier came back to bed, sliding in between the sheets as he gathered his king into the protective circle of his arms. Yuuri snuggled against his shoulder, turning on his side and fisting his delicate hand against Conrad's broad chest.

"I've dreamed of this," Yuuri whispered, his voice sleepy. "But this is so much better."

Conrad blushed at the boy's innocent confession and moved his chin to tenderly kiss his forehead. He listened as Yuuri's breathing evened out, and lengthened, signaling he'd fallen asleep. Conrad lay awake, hardly daring to believe his luck. He had already been given a second chance—when he'd made that fool's bargain with Shinou and left Yuuri's side to chase after the forbidden boxes. Yuuri had forgiven him then and accepted him back by his side. And now, he was actually sharing a bed as a man who loved and had his love returned to him in kind. Yuuri had been right—_third time lucky, third time's the charm_.

--O.o.O—

Under the cover of the trees lining the courtyard, Yozak Gurrier looked up at the windows of Blood Pledge Castle. He watched as Gunter Von Kleist buried his face in his hands, his tears still flowing freely, and shoulders shaking until Gwendal Von Voltaire came to surround the lavender-haired man in a strong embrace. The dark-haired man swept the other into his arms and carried him away from the window—the light suddenly extinguished, shutting their private pain away from any prying eyes.

The orange-haired man's gaze shifted, making note of the now rapidly darkening windows—maids closing up the castle for the night. He made note of the soldiers of the guard, each standing at his post—just as it should be.

Then his attention was drawn to the last window—a chamber still lit from within. His best friend, his ex-lover, his _taichou_ suddenly framed the window, stripping out of a shirt Yozak had never seen him wear. Conrad leaned down and blew out the candle, leaving the edifice of the castle obscured in shadow with only the moon shining down on them all.

Reaching up with one arm to grasp a low hanging branch that was both sturdy enough to bear his weight and trimmed with enough foliage to obscure him from any observers, Yozak pulled himself into his berth. Perhaps it wasn't the most comfortable bed he'd ever slept in, but the trunk of the tree was solid against his back, and the sound of the crickets was soothing. He drew one knee up to his chest, resting his elbow on his knee and his chin on the palm of his hand—allowing his other leg to dangle for balance. He kept his drawn sword at the ready, prepared to move at the first sound.

This was his duty, and he didn't resent it. While the inhabitants of the castle tried to find their rest, and maybe a little comfort in the arms of those they loved best, he would remain where he was, ever-watchful, alert and on guard. His time had passed, and young Yuuri was where he belonged, safe in Conrad's arms. And Yozak had delivered him, just as he was meant to, then melted back into the shadows where his life was found. He would always be there, caught between the sun and shadow, observing from afar._ The heart wants what it wants_, he thought ruefully, _and no man is strong enough to fight against that simple truth_.

If he did allow a tear to slide down his cheek, or found it hard to breathe for the ache in his chest, then he was the only one who would know it.

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_Ok, so that's Chapter four. It was very difficult for me to write, in part because there were many interruptions in the house today--so I hope I captured the flow. I am also proud to say that my best friend came back from Otakon with a Yozak plushie for me--my life is now complete! However, this fic is not, so I will get started on Chapter five. I really do want to take a moment though, and express my thanks for your reviews (and I will answer after I post this). It does really mean so much, and is inspiring to know that people are actually reading this fic! Thank you, thank you, thank you! In Chapter Five, we will deal with Wolfram and perhaps be able to see what really is happening inside the blonde's head. Personally, I'm not so sure about Gunter--as I was writing I came away with the idea that he is not as calm about these events as he may appear...we shall see. Thank you again, for reading, and I will see you tomorrow! SN  
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	5. Chapter 5

_Ha ha! It's 11:00pm my time, and I've updated, still sliding in, just under the wire, for my chapter-a-day goal. That is the good news. The bad news is...I had a really hard time writing this chapter today, and I'm very sorry for the delay. I get migraines--you know the kind, the barfing up your guts, spikes of light over your eyes, Oh-God-please-kill-me-now Migraines, yeah? So, I had to take several breaks while writing this. I still think it holds together though--at least I hope it does. I've likely left mistakes in it though, so I will edit it as soon as I can. But, now, on to chapter five, wherein we have an interlude--a peek, if you will, into what makes Conrad and Gwendal so alike, and a few hints as to what has finally pushed Wolfram too far. Your reviews have been so very brilliant, so very humbling that I feel almost ashamed to post this chapter. I cannot thank you enough, and I will answer them as soon as I can. I'm wicked scared of MintyFlake, though--but I am certain my Yozak plushie will protect me (if I put on a black wig and a high school boy's uniform). As usual, I don't own KKM, and will see you at the bottom of the page._

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**Chapter Five: By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes…**

Gunter's shoulders ached, his eyes were sore, and the last thing he wanted to do was wake up and face the day. He tried his best not to stir, not wishing to disturb the wonderful man sleeping beside him. It was rare for Gwendal to sleep past dawn and the fact that he was doing so was merely an indication of how deeply the events of the past day had worn on him. Gunter began to gently ease himself out of bed, gasping in slight shock when Gwendal's arms twitched and pulled him closer.

"You barely slept a wink, Gunter. Rest a moment more."

"Did I wake you? I'm sorry, I was trying to be quiet."

"No," Gwendal's voice was grave, sad. "I have been lying here, thinking."

"Talk to me."

Gunter could see the frown lines already etched on his handsome lover's face cut deeper still. He sighed, pressing a small kiss to the strong, iron line of Gwendal's jaw. The man carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, unwilling to allow anyone else to share his responsibilities, not because he was selfish or vainglorious, but because he never wanted anyone else to have to live with the kind of decisions he was forced to make daily. Gwendal was the most honorable, determined and beautiful soul Gunter had ever known. He loved the somber man so much sometimes he thought his heart would burst.

"I…I have been trying to figure this out, in my head. I can't though—I can't fix on the moment, the mistake I must have made that has allowed Wolfram to become the kind of man who could do something like this."

"We must, each of us, take responsibility for our own actions. What Wolfram has chosen to become is his own burden to bear. He decided, the first time, to strike Yuuri-heika."

Gwendal sighed deeply, rolling up onto his side to prop his head on his hand. His long, steely hair spilled over his shoulder to fan across Gunter's chest, the strands mingling with his own, pale hair. The general's indigo-blue eyes were darker, even more so than normal. He looked down at Gunter, making the beautiful man's breath catch in his throat.

"Why do you love me?" Gwendal asked suddenly.

Gunter reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind his darling's ear. "Do you have the rest of your life free? I might be able to begin to tell you if you have that long to spare."

A smile shone in Gwendal's eyes for the briefest of moments, then was gone. "I'm serious, Gunter. Why do you love me?"

"I will assume you are asking me about your character and not your physical appearance, so, can we just take it as read that you are the most handsome, virile and dangerously sexy demon to ever draw breath?"

There was that smile again, gone just as quickly as it came. "I will concede that point if you will answer my question."

"I love you, Gwendal, first because you are honest and forthright. I love you, also, because you have never broken a promise that has been within your power to keep. I love you because I trust you, have faith in you, and…I adore you because we have shared a life so full that if my own ended tomorrow, I could be reborn with no regrets."

"Do you know why I love you?"

Gunter paused. He had never really thought about it, because the love between them had existed forever it seemed—_did there have to be a why_? Of course, the more he considered the question, the more he realized he had no idea why Gwendal _did_ love him. They were very different men, forasmuch as they shared common goals, and many of Gunter's habits and foibles drove his partner to madness—he knew that, but through it all he had never questioned Gwendal's love—he didn't question it now. He simply knew that he was the center of Gwendal's universe, though the silent man had never said so—he showed him in a thousand small ways. Still, why?

"I have no idea why you love me, now that you ask."

Gwendal's large hand came up to cradle his cheek. "I love you because you hear all of the things I cannot say. I…I am going to lose my brother, if not today, then tomorrow. I can find a way to bear it, but it frightens me that I can live with that decision." His voice dropped to a husky whisper. "But I couldn't…can't…ever lose you."

"That's true, Gwen…you can't ever lose me. I will never leave you." Gunter hadn't thought he had any more tears to cry, but the vulnerable expression in those sad, blue eyes moved him to fresh tears.

He didn't resist when Gwendal took him into his strong arms and with his gentle, skilled hands—armed with the passionate knowledge gained over a lifetime of shared love—turned Gunter's tears into soft sighs and muted, whispered vows of devotion.

Later, when the sun was already streaming through the windows, Gunter finished securing Gwendal's hair into its usual ponytail. He ran a brush through his own tresses, and a few more precious moments were spent arranging shirt collars, adjusting insignia, and wiping imaginary smudges from boots already polished to a mirrored shine. He preceded Gwendal through the door, waiting in the hall for the taller man to pull it closed and secure it against any intrusion. Gunter had to smile to himself—he knew that his lover was not concerned about any of the documents or treasures going missing from his room, but his balls of wool that Yuuri-heika had brought back last winter, from Earth, were possessions the general guarded tenaciously.

The grey-haired man paused briefly, and said, without looking at his companion. "I want you to move your belongings into my room."

"Are you serious?" Gunter frowned slightly. "We have always agreed to keep separate quarters out of respect for Heika."

"Recent events have shown me that there is far too much secret-keeping in this castle. Perhaps, had we set a stronger example of how two men should behave, some measure of this tragedy might have been avoided. I do not care to hide, any longer. I have never been ashamed of my relationship with you." His deep voice softened only slightly. "And I don't like it when you're not next to me at night."

"R—really?"

"Really."

"Very well," Gunter sighed, feeling unaccountably happy—happier than he had any right to feel on a such a day as this. He trembled a little, every nerve alive with sensation. He had thought it didn't matter—had thought he was perfectly happy with the way things had always been. But, the idea of Gwendal acknowledging their love in such an open way made him feel almost…giddy. "I'll move my things later."

"Your furniture is too heavy to move by yourself. I'll have my guards do it. You will have other duties to handle today."

Gunter nodded. He didn't need words to know what Gwendal was talking about. He could already feel the castle whispering to him, revealing who was where and what was happening. _It was time_.

"There is something on the wind…approaching. Wolfram will return today." He said. "And Conrad and Yuuri are already on their way to your office."

"Are they? I will order a tray sent up from the kitchens, then. There won't be time for you to have breakfast otherwise."

"I didn't mind skipping the meal, Gwendal." After all the long years, Gunter could still blush at the thought of how his desire for this man melted his very bones.

"No," Gwendal said sternly, fully the Military Commander of Shin Makoku now—Gunter's affectionate lover dwelled back inside their bedchamber. "You know what you're like when you skip breakfast. Later, you will get a headache, and then you will become more emotional than usual—it will end in tears, as it always does. I will order a tray."

And that was the final word. The general had spoken. Gunter nodded, falling into step beside the already striding commander. It was true, Gwendal rarely used those three little words most people longed to hear, but Gunter didn't need them. His lover was a man for whom action would always speak louder than words.

"Thank you, Gwendal. I love you, too."

--O.o.O—

Conrad Weller met the morning sun with a renewed sense of purpose and a fledgling sense of belonging. When he had begun to stir, still lingering in that shimmering haze between alertness and dazed sleep, he was at first slightly confused by the weight on his chest, the comfortable warmth in his arms, but as he climbed the steps to consciousness—his disjointed, sluggish thoughts beginning to march efficiently toward logic—flashes of memory tickled his mind.

_Yuuri._

Opening his eyes, he was met with a shy, questioning black-eyed stare. He squinted then opened his eyes again, willing the wavering face in front of him to stop moving. It took a few moments, but he saw it, finally—Yuuri's face, Yuuri's eyes, the soft, kissable lips, and the tentative smile that reached into his heart and gripped it tight.

He opened his mouth to speak…managing a short grunt-like sound. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Good morning, Yuuri."

"Good morning, Conrad."

The soldier heard something like barely suppressed mirth in the Maou's greeting. In fact, now that he had blinked a few times and yawned, again, he was pretty sure the young man's shoulders were shaking—but there was no evidence of tears in his beautiful eyes.

_Suspicious! _He thought as he stretched a little and tried to focus on the face he loved so much.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

As though he'd spoken the magic words to open an ensorcelled door, the young king's laughter spilled forth like water through a sluiceway.

"What are you laughing about?" He asked, confused. "I mean, I love that you're happy, Yuuri. But it's not very good for my ego to wake up to giggling."

"It's…it's just that I've always thought you were so perfect—like a God. You know? You're _Conrad_—the mighty. I had this image of you leaping out of bed, fully dressed, always on the alert…but…but…you're lazy! You don't wake up easily! And…you snore!"

The soldier took a moment to process what the boy was saying. "I'm sorry, Yuuri," he said, finally settling on an apology. He was a little embarrassed—no one had ever complained about him as a sleeping partner before.

"No!" the black-haired boy said sharply, still smiling. "Don't do that—don't put up the _untouchable-Conrad-wall_. I…I'm trying to tell you that I like it…it makes you…more real. It makes me want to know everything else about you—your habits, the things you really like and the things you don't." He felt the younger man's hand come up to stroke his cheek. "I didn't think it was possible to love you any more than I already do—I was wrong. This is…this is real, isn't it, Conrad? We're really…together, and here, and…this is going to be our life, right?"

Conrad felt his heart, literally, skip a beat. It was almost painful, this intense love he had for the boy in his arms. He smiled, and pulled Yuuri up, onto his chest, until they were laying stomach flush against stomach, thigh seamed to thigh. He braided his fingers with the Maou's and stretched his arms high above his head, pulling the king's arms up in the same pose, which brought the young man's lips dangerously close to his own. "Morning breath and all, Yu—uri. I am far from perfect, you know. I have made more mistakes in my life than I have done things right."

"You're perfect for me," the king whispered.

"I have been, since before you were born, your guardian. I was your protector after that, and I have tried to be a friend, a confidant, even an advisor at times. I have been your knight, and your sword, and for now and all my life, Yuuri, I will be your shield, if you will let me. But, it has only been in my most secret dreams, the dreams I've only ever dared to share with you, that I've hoped to be your man."

Yuuri's eyes flew open, a beautiful blush staining his cheeks, and Conrad made a silent vow to fill the young man's life with as many of these moments as he could. He wanted Yuuri to know how much he was cherished, needed, desired…loved. It was not always easy for him to say what he was really thinking, too many years spent perfecting his unflappable persona made such declarations difficult. But for Yuuri, only for Yuuri, he could do it. And if his love, the only offering he could truly give his king that was completely his own, made the boy smile in such a way and forget, even for a moment, some of the pain Wolfram had inflicted—Conrad would find a way to remove the shackles from his hesitant tongue.

He released Yuuri's left hand, bringing his own arm down to gently caress the side of the younger man's face. Moving slowly, awake now to any signal of Yuuri's discomfort, Conrad let his hand move into Yuuri's hair, cupping the back of his head with his palm. Yuuri didn't pull away, but curled his now free arm over Conrad's shoulder. Barely moving still, aware that his partner's heart was beating faster, and his breath was coming quickly, Conrad urged Yuuri's head forward and the boy's sigh told him more than words ever could. He wasn't frightened.

Conrad Weller was not an inexperienced man no matter how experience was defined. He'd been kissed by and he _had_ kissed more people than he could remember. Nothing he'd known before, however, could have prepared him for this. When his lips touched Yuuri's, every protective instinct in him flared forward, fanning the flames of his already smoldering desire. The innocent movement of the boy above him, the feathery wingbeats of his lips exploring Conrad's own sent bursts of light coursing through him. It took every ounce of willpower the soldier possessed to still his passion, to let Yuuri set the pace. The glide of skin against skin teased his senses, plucked at his nerves and he strained against the heavy pull of his baser instincts. He knew he had to be patient, considerate, but the feelings Yuuri's kiss awakened within him pulled at him like the ocean's tide. He forced himself to be passive, despite his consuming urge to devour the boy like a starving man invited to a feast, trembling when he felt the first shy, hesitant touch of the king's small tongue against his mouth. He parted his lips slightly, pausing only to gauge the boy's reaction, then opened them further still when Yuuri made a soft sound of happiness. He encouraged the young man to explore, coaxing his tongue forward with gentle laps of his own. Never threatening, never overwhelming, Conrad guided the Maou into his first taste of real love-making—all with that one, simple kiss.

He didn't resist when Yuuri began to pull back, though he wanted nothing more than to follow the king and repeat his actions until the boy was gasping for air. Instead, he let his fingers slide back to the Maou's face, tracing his lips with a soft, loving touch, respecting the boundaries set. That he was now aching with want, rocked to his toes and nearly breathless with desire was a small matter—he forced a gentle smile to his lips.

"I…wow." Yuuri said, staring at him like he'd never really seen him before.

"I agree," Conrad said, letting his fingers glide from Yuuri's lips to brush his cheeks, exploring the fine line of his jaw, the delicate bridge of his nose, the perfect shape of his brows. "I love you, Yuuri. You're so beautiful."

The words, though heartfelt and spoken with nothing but honest love, triggered something in the king's memory, and he reared back from Conrad so quickly that he slipped and rolled off the soldier's chest, almost scrambling back against the wall.

"No," Yuuri whispered. "No, I'm not beautiful. Oh, god…Conrad, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry! You must think I…How can you look at me?"

Conrad sat up, moving slowly so as not to frighten the boy any more than he already was. "Yuuri," he said, keeping his tone gentle. "Never apologize to me, especially when you've done nothing wrong. I can look at you because I love you, more than my own life, and what I think..? I think this is the most wonderful start to the day I've ever had. Talk to me, Yuuri. Tell me what I did that upset you so much."

"I…I don't understand myself," he replied, looking confused. "I was so happy, when I woke up and you were here, and it was like every good dream I've ever had coming true all at once. Then you kissed me, and it was…wow. I mean, really, Conrad, wow! Then…I remembered…everything."

The soldier thought for a moment, considering what would be best to do—how could he reassure the man he loved without sounding…condescending or worse—insincere. "Yuuri, I want to say something…" he began. "But first…I'd like to ask you a favor."

"What…what favor?"

"Would you let me hold you?"

"Why would you want to touch me?" he whispered.

"Because I need to…I can't explain it better than that. I have ached to hold you for so long, I can't quite seem to get past it."

The Maou's surprised expression mirrored the feeling in Conrad's chest. What he'd said was true—he couldn't seem to think clearly anymore unless Yuuri's skin was in contact with his own. The king shifted hesitantly, eventually coming to curl in Conrad's lap, and finally laying his head on the older man's shoulder. Conrad expelled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. This was better. He had Yuuri close and he could focus again.

"Part of me wants to tell you that everything that happened to you was just a bad dream—that it wasn't real—and that it was a nightmare, but that you're awake now and I'm here and it never happened." He said, trying to pick the right words to convey the depth of his love. "But, I can't say that because it's not true. My love for you is based on truth, Yuuri. Your truth—the truth of who you are and what we can be together—what we can make together. I want to do what the fictional heroes always do—and promise you a life without sorrow, no pain and no hard times, but…I've been alive too long, and have seen too much to be able to say that either. I guess I'm sort of a useless lover in that way."

"You're not useless," Yuuri exclaimed.

Conrad placed one finger on the boy's lips. "Let me finish. I am not saying that we should pretend that what happened to you didn't happen—I don't want that. What I am saying is that the only power those things have over us is the power we give them. You're going to have memories, and get scared, and we'll get frustrated, and maybe you'll even start to get angry, or say things you might not even mean—but just because that's probably going to happen doesn't mean that becomes the definition of who we are. I will never leave you, and we can get through this together. You're not alone, Yuuri. You're never alone—not anymore."

He felt dampness on his shoulder, knew his young love was crying, so Conrad kissed the top of Yuuri's head and rocked him gently in his arms. "I have looked for you my whole life, searched for the part of myself that was missing, and now I've found you. King or Peasant, makes no difference to me now, all that matters is that you love me and I love you. Everything else—we'll just take as it comes. One step at a time."

"I thought…for so long I thought I'd lost everything."

"Whatever else may happen, this I vow to you, Shibuya Yuuri Harajuku Furi, twenty-seventh Maou of Shin Makoku," Conrad whispered fiercely. "If everything in the world were ripped from your fingers, if you lost every possession you ever held dear, and had no home, no friends, no family—there is one thing you will never lose. You will never lose me. I belong to you, my whole body and soul. I am yours and no other's."

Conrad hesitated, afraid that his passionate declaration had frightened the still fragile king. However, apparently whatever good deeds he might have done at some point in his life were being rewarded because instead of Yuuri recoiling from his awkward attempts at solace, as he half-expected, the younger man leaned up and pressed his lips to Conrad's throat. He swallowed, hard, blood already beginning to race through his veins at the contact.

"They called you the Lion of Ruttenberg, once, didn't they?" the Maou asked, out of nowhere it seemed.

"Y—yes." Conrad replied, surprised.

"I can see why. You're the strongest man I've ever met."

"I know one who's stronger," he said quietly.

They held each other then, until the sun's insistent and increasing warmth made it clear that the day was galloping forward and it was time to face the trials ahead. Conrad bathed with Yuuri, an occurrence that had occurred countless times in the past, though this time it was with a decidedly more intimate flavor. He made no advances, and the king didn't spontaneously combust, despite the red hue painted on his cheeks. Yuuri cried silent tears as Conrad tenderly dressed the wounds on his back, allowing the soldier to press a soft kiss to each injury. He held still while Conrad smoothed a pain-relieving salve over his skin, but he didn't pull away and try to hide himself. It was more progress in one day than Conrad had hoped for. He hoped it was a good portent for things to come.

"We missed breakfast," Conrad commented, as he took his usual position, slightly behind and to the left of the king. "I'll ask Doria to bring something into Gwendal's office."

"I'm not really very hungry," the young man replied, and Conrad could hear the nervousness in his voice.

"Still, you should try to eat a little something. It might make a difference later…Hei-ka!"

"Conrad! You…! Ok, fine, I'll eat in exchange for no _heikas_ for the rest of the day."

"Thank you, Yuuri."

"Hey, Conrad?" The boy asked, looking over his shoulder.

"Yes…?"

"I love you, too."

Conrad held his adoring smile until Yuuri turned back around and kept walking. His love for the king, his adoration was genuine, but the soldier carried other feelings, too. He let his carefully controlled emotions loose and for a moment, the rage he felt inside visible for the briefest of seconds. He was not angry with the Maou…he could never be upset with Yuuri, not like this. But watching the younger man, the sun in his sky, move down the hall with an altered gait, obviously trying to mask the pain his injuries still caused him brought the fury to Conrad's mind again and he began to see red. To willfully cause harm to someone that you are sworn to protect…such an act could never be forgiven. And he had no intention of even trying.

--O.o.O—

Shibuya Yuuri had never been very good at waiting. He had, in times past, been both in awe of and immensely frustrated by Conrad's seemingly endless patience. The impetuous, impulsive part of his nature had caused him no amount of grief over his relatively short life. He had, several Christmases running, been Shibuya Miko's one child who couldn't wait to open the presents at the appointed time. No, he had always sneaked downstairs and pulled open the corners of the brightly-colored wrappings to plunder the loot. Shori—his elder brother and also a man possessed of the maddening, zen-like ability to forego the chance to investigate any mystery—had always taken the blame and the punishment for Yuuri's reckless self-indulgence. In fact, as he counted the times he'd actually shown the ability to wait with anything like an ambush predator's patience, he could only come up with one instance—baseball. He could wait, calmly, for eternity-length seconds when it came to outlasting a batter—holding his signal to the pitcher until the very last moment—just to give himself that one little edge, just enough of a push to manipulate the batter into making a mistake. But when it came to everything else, he was always the fool who rushed in where angels feared to tread. He had the thought with no sense of irony. Such behavior was the trademark, after all, of the King of Demons.

During the months he'd tolerated Wolfram's escalating violence, almost losing himself in the process, he had wondered to himself why he didn't just stop it. He wondered why he had kept quiet when he knew he could have gone for help. He laid awake long into the night, during those dark days, and made the choice to cry silent, bitter tears as opposed to seek assistance and asylum from the very men who now sat around a conference table, voices raised, debating the definitive fate of one of their own. And, this, of course, had been the one reason that stood out from all the rest. He didn't want this. He had never wanted this. Conrad and Gwendal, vying for which brother had the right to dispense justice in the King's name. Gunter trying, vainly, to mediate between the two at the same time he tried to appropriate the duty for himself. The only other occupant of the room, and one who had yet to voice an opinion, was the tall, unsmiling, orange-haired spy. He merely sat, perched cross-legged on a low bookshelf and looked out the window, his sharp eyes missing nothing if the exchange—or the comings and goings in the courtyard.

"I am the head of a family, as well as the Commander of the military—Wolfram's very commission was purchased under my authority. I am responsible, Conrad, for what he has become. I should have taken better care of you both when you were children. Had I done so—"

Yuuri winced as Conrad's harsh voice cut into Gwendal's speech.

"That's no answer! I have always been the Maou's protector. It is my duty to challenge Wolfram and make him answer for the things he has done. He is our brother, Gwendal, but he has given up any claim to familial honor. I love Yuuri, and I promised to guard him from any harm. This is my fight. Would you allow anyone else to fight for you on Gunter's behalf? Why would you deny me the right to fight for the honor of the man I love?"

Gunter's soft voice was harsh with anger. "Von Bielefeld is a magic user, Conrad. You cannot trust him to behave with honor. Being skilled with both blade and maryoku, it makes sense that I fight for the honor of the Maou. Gwendal, if either you or Conrad fight, Cheri-sama will be inconsolable. It is not fair to ask a mother to lose another one of her sons."

Oh, how Yuuri wished this day had never come. He wished it was morning again, and he was waking up in Conrad's embrace, being cherished and loved. He wished he could turn the clock back. If he could, he would tell his past self to simply finish his dinner, to be patient enough not to be riled by the blonde's insulting remarks about his mother, to sit on his hands if he had to if that's what it took to prevent him from slapping the tempestuous young man. If he could, he would have taken his former self's face between his two hands and physically turned him toward the tall, handsome brown-haired soldier—the man who had saved him that day and countless days after—and he would have told the Yuuri of history to hold on until the time was right.

But, even though it was perfectly possible to travel between dimensions, flitting between two equally fantastic realities, it was still not possible to go back in time—in either world. So, there he stood, forgotten in the midst of the passionate argument. If only he could summon the Maou now, he might have some chance to stop this. Yuuri felt the loss of his inner demon more than he had ever been able to put into words. He had grown used to the whirling winds and the strange choir-like sound in his head that heralded the coming of the one being in Shin Makoku that no one dared ignore. When the Maou took over, Yuuri wasn't always sure what would happen, but he knew that the Maou had an uncanny way of making things right. And if he could summon him now, then Yuuri would happily allow the final dispensation of justice to come from his alter-ego. But there was no Maou to lean on, no dragons to lift his problems up into the sky and hurl them into nothingness, no great rush of water to rain down on him, washing away his sins along with his memory. There was nothing now, just the people he loved reduced to screaming at one another, and his inability to bring them the peace he so desperately wanted.

His brain supplied images, with lurid detail, whether he wanted to see them or not. An image of Gwendal, holding the battered and broken body of Wolfram in his arms, trying to explain to Cheri-sama how he'd killed her third son danced across his vision. An image of Conrad, burned, consumed by the demon-fire that Wolfram had at his fingertips. More images piled on, one after the other—Gunter and Gwendal, their relationship torn asunder because Gunter had ultimately destroyed Von Bielefeld, Gisela mourning a murdered father, Greta mourning the same…and more he didn't want to see. The images gnawed at him, taunted him, mocked his very weakness to prevent the looming tragedy.

"No," he whispered. "No, you will not. No one is going to die today. No one!"

Silence descended on the room, the sound louder than the shouting had been.

"Heika?" Gunter asked, looking at Yuuri.

"I said…no one is going to die today." He took a deep breath. "I love you all, every one of you in this room, and I am not going to lose any of you—not like this. And I'm not going to let Cheri-sama lose her youngest child, either. I couldn't bear the loss of Greta—how could I ask her to do the same?"

"But, Wolfram—" Gwendal began.

Yuuri put his hand on his general's shoulder. "Wolfram will have to accept my judgment—not that I've really decided what that is, exactly. But…he's not going to die today, either—not by any hand in this room."

"Yuuri," Conrad said, his beautiful mouth turning down in a frown. "You can't mean to forget what he's done. He…he battered you!"

"I can't forget, Conrad. Of course not. But, I did not execute Leah's husband and I am not going to execute Wolfram. I have to live with what happened, and he should, too."

"But, Heika…" Gunter began.

"I said no, Gunter!" Yuuri said, his limited control finally breaking. "Am I the Maou, or not?"

"Of…Of course you are, Heika." He answered, his expression softening.

"And Gwendal, didn't we make a deal? I said I would remain the Maou if you would help me, remember?"

"Yes, Yuuri, I remember." Gwendal folded his arms. "I gave my word."

"Then please," Yuuri whispered, coming over to link his arms around Conrad's neck. "Please listen to me, and actually hear me. All day, you've been fighting about who will act and who will do what, and how Wolfram will be handled, but you're overlooking something really important. Wolfram, despite everything he has done, is your brother—and probably as close to you as a son, Gunter. You can't undo what he did to me by hurting him. I know it sounds infantile to you, probably. Just me being thoughtless and naïve again, but I really believe this."

"Yuuri," Conrad's voice was shaking, this time with sorrow, not anger. "I can't let you face him alone. He is powerful and in his anger, he might very well—I can't even think it, much less say it."

"I won't be alone." Yuuri leaned down and nuzzled Conrad's cheek. "You better not let me out of your sight, because I'm depending on you. Together, right? Like you said this morning."

"He hurt you." Conrad's jaw clenched. Yuuri could feel it under his own cheek.

"You said before—all of you have said—that you believe in me. Well, do you? Do you really? Because I'm having a hard time believing in myself right now, but, I know in my heart this is right. I have to do this. I have to stand up for myself. I have to be the one to stop this. Not foolishly. And not alone. I know that…" He took a deep breath. "I know that he is still physically stronger than me. But, I am the king, the Maou. And maybe it's about time I acted like it, huh?"

"I believe in you, Kiddo. I'm on your side."

Yuuri looked up, his arms still curled around Conrad's shoulders. Yozak fixed him with one, bright-eyed look and gave him a smile.

"Thank you, Yozak."

"If this is your desire, Heika. Your judgment. Then my hands are yours to command. I will do as you ask." Gunter said, holding his hand over his heart.

"You are a stubborn boy," Gwendal said in a grave tone. "And Wise. I do not like this plan, but I have given you my word. Your will be done, Heika."

"And you, Conrad…? Can you do this? For me? Please lay aside your rage, because it will only make things worse. Can you still believe in a king with no magic and no Maou?"

The tall soldier, the man he loved, disengaged Yuuri's hands from around his neck, pushed his chair back, and turned to enfold the young man in his embrace. "I have never had magic, Yuuri. I've never cared about it. And it's you I love, not the Maou, even if he is a part of you. I have always believed in you. So, if this is what has to happen…if this is what you say is right, then I will obey. I am your shield, Yuuri, and I will protect you."

"Thank you." Yuuri whispered, looking into Conrad's beautiful eyes. The love he saw reflected there made him feel suddenly powerful, and strong. If Conrad believed in him, he could do this. The Maou could just take care of himself.

"Thank you all," he said, peeking around Conrad's arm to smile at his advisors.

"I must speak to mother," Gwendal said, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. "Conrad, you will stay with Yuuri-heika?"

"Of course."

"It would be best to make haste, Gwendal," Gunter said softly. "Wolfram is nearly here."

--O.o.O—

Gripping his knees against his saddle, Wolfram Von Bielefeld urged his mount to a thunderous gallop. Two days wasted on a while goose chase for a magical item that hadn't even been stolen. He couldn't wait to get back to Blood Pledge Castle and confront his eldest brother. Not, of course, like Gwendal was ever going to admit that he had been in the wrong, but it was utterly galling—absolutely embarrassing—to have been informed, once he had arrived at the appointed village, that the Blood Stone had been delivered to the town's head man by accident. He thought of the stone in his pocket—annoying little trinket. There wasn't enough magic in it to make a good nightlight for Greta much less warrant the mad dash he and his soldiers had been forced to make in order to retrieve the damned thing.

All he wanted was a hot bath, a decent meal, and maybe a little up close and personal relaxation time with his lieutenant. Unless, of course, Yuuri had managed to come through the gutters and back into Shin Makoku.

_Yuuri._

Now, there was a problem. Why did he have to be so…so…unfaithful. Wolfram snorted, the sound drowned out by the thundering horse hooves. Oh, he knew very well that Yuuri wasn't fucking anyone else—not now, but why couldn't he ever—_just once_—be on Wolfram's side? The young commander knew that if he tried to talk to the black-haired boy, the king would just start talking about how it's not right to get mad at people for making honest mistakes, and that he shouldn't be so judgmental, and then he'd say something stupid like how Conrad never got angry like he did.

Wolfram gripped the reins tighter, his building anger communicating down the leather straps to his horse, causing the animal to increase his speed.

Yeah. He'd say something stupid all right, and he'd have to remind the king, _once again_, who his fiancé was. And if he wouldn't listen to reason? Well, Yuuri never listened to reason. Then he'd open that big mouth of his and force Wolfram to explain, in the only language he seemed to understand, why it's just better to keep his trap shut when it came to things the kid was never going to understand anyway.

Wolfram had spent years as the laughing stock of the ten royal families—as well as being the main victim of a healthy gambling ring at the castle—and he knew it. Yuuri had been treating him like nothing more than a glorified concubine for years, taunting him, teasing him, prolonging an engagement that should have been signed, sealed and delivered into marriage weeks after the Maou had slapped him in the first place.

_Just be patient_, Gwendal had said. Well, he'd been patient—and still Yuuri treated him like he was less than nothing, running to Weller every time he stubbed his toe, or wanted to play that damned baseball game thing he seemed to love so much, or to share late night snacks in the kitchen, or to take a long walk at sunset. Yuuri was _HIS_ fiancé, not Conrad's…and he should have turned to him!

_Heika has a lot to learn_, Gunter had said. And it seemed like everyone in the world had plenty to teach him, and he made time for all of them—except when it came to Wolfram. His own fiancé passed him over, every single time. He never asked him any questions, or came to him for help. Wolfram had to fight for every moment he could get out of Yuuri—every crumb of attention the Maou tossed his way. He didn't care about posing for Wolfram's pictures, so he'd stopped painting. The only time he even bothered to talk to him at all was when he wanted to talk about Greta, and even their daughter's opinion meant more to Yuuri than Wolfram's.

_Yuuri's heart belongs to everyone in Shin Makoku. Don't be jealous_, Conrad had said. Bullshit. How he'd like to smack that smug smile right off his half-breed brother's face. How he could stand there with a straight face and lie, _lie_ right to Wolfram's face made him sick. And he had the gall to call him a hypocrite? He ought to try looking in a mirror every once and a while. Pining away for another man's fiancé, injecting yourself between two people who could be perfectly happy except for one arrogant bastard's continued interference—where was the honor in that? And, still, everyone said Wolfram was the immature one? How could he not be jealous when he knew, absolutely knew that Conrad was only waiting for a chance to steal Yuuri away from him.

"Hurry up!" Wolfram shouted, urging his now flagging mount to one last burst of speed.

He was eighty years old. A seasoned soldier, proven in action—even if he hadn't yet had the chance to be in a war yet—and probably never would if Yuuri insisted on his current foreign policy of wimpitude. So what if Conrad had come back a war hero. So what if Gwendal commanded the army. So what if Gunter was known as the best swordsman in Shin Makoku—well second best now, thanks to his oh-so-perfect half-brother. Wolfram had plenty of courage to offer. Not that it mattered. No matter what he did, he was always getting pushed to the back, riding the ass-end of the supply line. No one respected him. No one gave him the credit he deserved. No one paid any attention to what he said. No one gave a damn about him at all. Well, they could all go straight to hell, as far as he was concerned. He was tired of trying to prove himself, playing along with their little games, and sucking hind tit. He was a man now. A grown, _full-blooded,_ Mazoku, and he was damned tired of being ignored. So, they wanted to treat him like a footnote in the story of their lives—well _fuck_ them.

_Fuck them_.

_Fuck_ Gwendal._ Fuck_ Gunter. _Fuck_ Conrad. And if it came right down to it, _Fuck Yuuri, too_.

Wolfram was off his horse, tossing the reins to a stableboy even before the animal had even come to a complete halt. His soldiers were just arriving in the courtyard when he'd gained the top of the stairs.

"Wolfram!"

He paused, turning to the sound of his name. Standing framed in the doorway of the abandoned guest house, was Yuuri…with Conrad by his side. This was _not_ happening. There was no way this was happening. Wolfram spun on his heel and stalked across the courtyard. Enough was enough. It was time to end this once and for all.

* * *

_And there we have the end of today's offering. I was saying to MintyFlake in my quick dash to reply to her review, that I agree that Yuuri will have more freak-outs before he is done, and as part of the healing process, if this was going on in real life, he and Conrad would be facing a lot of fallout. I have reduced some scenes of Yuuri's distress for purposes of keeping the story tight, but when I have had patients at work who have dealt with this type of abuse, I have seen many different reactions, as I told Minty, but there is a common thread--sometimes you don't know what will set a person off--in this case, the sweetest words Conrad could have said to Yuuri. Sometimes, it just happens that way. I wish I had a way to answer the anonymous reviews, El, Scyth, twitty and strega, because you all said so many thoughtful things! (Etiquette tips on answering reviews are welcome, BTW) But, please know that I appreciate your reading this story, and taking the time to tell me what you think, and what you see in the work. I am so very grateful--thank you! So, all that being said--tomorrow we deal with the final confrontation, and we're coming to the end on this story, one maybe two more chapters, possible epilogue--so you know I never know til we're done. Now, I'm off to read the next chapter of crsg's "A Scouting Trip", then I'll clean up my errors in this chappie. You guys are the best! SN_


	6. Chapter 6

_:Striped Neko walks in with the next chapter wearing a t-shirt that reads: Press-gangs are bad!: Well, howdy. I'm a little late on this update, as I was basically shanghaied into work today and pulled a double. But, when I got home, I wrote like a little fiend and here is the next chapter. I found this one difficult to write, because as I was writing it, I really wanted Wolfram to wake up and not be...what he has become at least in context of this particular story. I drowned my sorrows however, in milk and chocolate-mint cookies. Anyway, I thank you most sincerely for reading, and remind you that I don't own the Maou, and will see you at the bottom of the page..._

* * *

**Chapter Six: Dead Reckoning**

Many years ago, Yuuri and his older brother Shori had given their father, Shoma, a paperweight as a father's day present. Yuuri picked it out. Shori paid for it. It was a heavy, clear glass globe with what looked like a flying dove in the center. Yuuri had, as a small boy, fallen in love with the graceful bird, convinced it was alive and had been captured in flight. Later, he had come to love the quote etched in the glass, once spoken by a famous American man who worked his whole life for peace—Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. It read: _"The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy."_ Those words came back to the young king as he watched the approach of his former fiancé. This might be his ultimate challenge, personally, regardless of what came in the future—and for all that he had the support of the people who loved him, Yuuri still felt very much alone. Hoping for a small burst of courage, Yuuri slipped his hand into Conrad's and squeezed his fingers. The tall soldier returned the gesture, then moved his hand to rest on Yuuri's shoulder—a pose he'd adopted for so long that it seemed natural to Yuuri now. Conrad's hand on his shoulder, radiating warmth and reassurance through the silent message, the man himself shielding the young Maou with both his skill as a warrior and his devotion as a subject. The unspoken message to anyone approaching—whether it was a foreign dignitary, a friend, an enemy, or, in this case, the soldier's brother, was unmistakable. The gesture conveyed one simple message: This is my king, my liege, cross him at your peril.

He risked one glance up at Conrad. His knight and protector stood silent, every muscle tense with a careful, sober expression on his face. He had faced adversity before, and Yuuri knew it. Still, this was his own brother striding toward them with a look of murderous disdain, and wounded pride, on his face. Yuuri felt, more than saw, Gunter and Gwendal move. Gunter came to his left side, while Gwendal stood behind him. How had he been so lucky as to come to know such strong men? And could he be strong enough, wise enough…_King_ enough to protect them—for once taking the responsibility for the outcome of an event and shielding them from having to make an impossible choice? He didn't know.

What are the character traits that, when held in abundance, come together to create the masculine ideal? He pondered that question as Wolfram came to stand, defiantly, at the base of the steps.

Demons and Humans. Humans and Demons.

The two races had their differences, it was true, but there was much in common to be found between them—the two races had even blended successfully on Earth. Yuuri had no idea that he carried a demon soul until he had been brought to Shin Makoku. As far as he'd ever known, he was fully human and even the concept of a Demon Nation would never have blossomed in his imagination. He wondered sometimes, if the mazoku of Earth ever took offense at the offhand, racist terminology that was so common in the human vernacular—_he has a demonic temper; she went off like a demon when he was late; the little demon!_—in reference to an ill-mannered child. Perhaps it was because he thought himself fully human, yet found himself the Maou that it never occurred to him that humans and demons couldn't live together peaceably. He had not seen the wars—not only was he raised on Earth in safety, he was simply too young. At the moment, he felt too young for many things.

Once, during a voyage between Shin Makoku and Caloria, when Wolfram was indisposed due to sea sickness and Gwendal was ensconced in his cabin working out the finer points of a troop relocation, Yuuri had struck up a conversation with the ship's navigator. The young man had an extra map that he was more than willing to share with the young Maou. Yuuri had passed the time by estimating the ship's current position in reference to the fixed coordinates the navigator had given him, and using the speed of the ship, the course heading, and the time that had passed. The skill, known as Dead Reckoning, was one he had learned in school. Conrad, when he'd seen it, had looked at him with shocked surprise. He had never been trained in the skill.

Now, as he watched Wolfram, and the emotions that played across the young mazoku's face, Yuuri felt strangely detached, as though this wasn't quite real. And he wondered just how far he had really come since he'd first accepted the role as Maou in Shin Makoku. He had thought he was making progress—a steady advance toward the future. Yet, how could he have made any progress at all when he was now facing one of the first people he'd met in Shin Makoku—a man who was a friend at one time, a companion, and a trusted ally—as an enemy. His ship had been traveling in circles. Yuuri bit his lip, just a quick motion, and tried to think of the right words to say, something that would end this tension right here—and make everything all right again. His first instinct was to placate the fire-wielding demon in front of him—placating Wolfram had become his habit for the past half year and it was so very hard to break. There could be no words, however, that would smooth over what had happened. There would be no group hug at the end of this confrontation—capped off by one of Conrad's egregiously painful puns.

Yuuri wanted to run away. He wanted to shrink before the look in those accusing green eyes. When Wolfram's gaze flicked back and forth between Conrad and Yuuri, meaningfully, the Maou felt guilty and ashamed. He actually opened his lips to apologize, to hastily explain that his standing next to Conrad wasn't at all what it looked like—except it was. _It was exactly what it looked like_. The enormity of the change that was already beginning fell heavily on Yuuri's heart. How had he ever let things come to this?

"Yuuri." Wolfram said. No more than his name, and the frisson of fear that traveled the length of his spine made his back clench in pain. Conrad's fingers pressed, almost imperceptibly, into Yuuri's shoulder, reminding him that he wasn't by himself this time.

"Wolfram, come inside," Yuuri said, finally finding his voice. It wasn't as strong as he could have wished for it to be, but at least he was speaking. "We are going to talk."

"And if I don't want to?" the green-eyed man said, as though discussing the weather.

"It's not a request. Come inside, or stay here and let the entire castle bear witness to what you have done, Wolfram." Gwendal's voice was more forbidding than Yuuri had ever heard. "Your king has commanded you, or do you think yourself above every law?"

"Gwendal," Yuuri said softly, gently. "Do not interfere."

There was a long, tense moment of silence.

"Very well, Heika." His general said.

"Please, Wolfram," Yuuri said, trying to keep his voice even despite the panic rising in his throat. "Come inside where we can sit down and talk."

"Whatever," Wolfram replied, rolling his eyes and shoving past Gunter as he stomped inside. "Four on one? I've beaten worse odds."

"Gwendal, Gunter," Yuuri said as they came inside. "I want you to stay here. Don't let anyone come inside."

"Heika?" Gunter asked, his eyes on Wolfram.

Yuuri leaned close to his teacher, his adjutant, and his friend. "It's my battle, Gunter. Please do this for me. You're the only one who can handle Gwendal, if I get into trouble. Ok?"

"We will be right here, Heika," Gwendal said. The General turned his icy eyes onto his youngest brother. "Wolfram, we will be watching. Know that."

"Oh, I'm sure," the boy said, his teeth clenched. "So, Yuuri, I've been tried and judged? What are you going to do—write justice on my chest and then ride off into the sunset with my fiancé-thieving half-breed brother? What did he tell you? Did he tell you about watching me with another man—and now you're going to pout because I cheated?"

Yuuri swallowed hard, his stomach feeling queasy and uncertain. Conrad hadn't said anything about that, but he wasn't surprised. He probably had hoped to spare Yuuri from that particular indignity, but, could it be a shock to discover that he was not the cheater in the relationship? Part of him felt very sorry for whoever it was that Wolfram was bedding in his place. His soldier's hand slipped down to the small of his back, and rested there. The king took a deep breath. He was not going to be distracted from his purpose by the barbs the blonde was throwing.

"Conrad never said a word about that, Wolfram, but it's no real surprise. We're here because I'm tired of lying and this all has to end. They know, Wolfram. They know everything."

"What?" The blonde's green eyes narrowed dangerously. "What did you say?"

"I've told them about what has been going on between us."

"Did you? Did you tell them everything, Yuuri?" Wolfram's voice dropped to a low, silky pitch. "Did you tell them every secret thing?"

Yuuri started to shake. He knew what the other man was talking about. He hadn't wanted to think about the sex. He hadn't wanted to remember his shame, his guilt at allowing it to happen. He felt the nausea rising again, despite the fact his mind tried telling him he was safe. He was, suddenly, underneath the blonde again, his arms pinned above his head, and listening to the man tell him that if he ever told anyone that he'd be sorry.

"Stop it, Wolfram." He said, almost choking on the words. He took a deep breath, and tried again. "You can't bully your way out of this. You can't turn the tables this time. I brought you here, to this place, for a reason. Do you know what it is?"

Wolfram's lips pressed into a grim, thin line. Yuuri could see the other man's shoulders shaking with suppressed anger and energy. He knew what he was like when he got this way—it wouldn't take long before he exploded with frustration.

"What, are you going to just get rid of me? It shouldn't take too much, none of you think of me anyway. It would be easier if I just disappeared, right?"

"No," the maou gasped. "How can you even say that? I brought you here because I wanted you to try and remember what it was like before it got so bad. This is where the bearbees hatched, Wolfram—have you really forgotten?"

That seemed to stun Wolfram for a moment. His brows furrowed, and he looked at Yuuri with suspicion plain on his features. "Of course I remember."

Yuuri reached behind his back and brushed his fingers against Conrad's hand. "Then take a walk with me, Wolfram. And before you say anything, yes, Conrad is coming, too. But, you'll give us some space, right?"

Yuuri looked up at the man he loved. Conrad's face was an impassive mask, only his eyes betraying the depth of his emotions. Yuuri could read the love there, the concern, the anger, and the disbelief. No, his knight was in no way pleased with the suggestion, but he wasn't going to argue. Yuuri could see that.

"Afraid to be alone with me, Yuuri?" Wolfram mocked.

"Yes," he replied, simply.

Something about the raw honesty in the response, once again, seemed to surprise the blonde soldier. At least enough so that he didn't argue again, but walked beside Yuuri—not quite within arm's reach—as the Maou lead them down the newly constructed stairs and into the basement area where, years before, he and Wolfram had been, for a brief time, united.

--O.o.O—

Conrad could feel the fear rising from the Maou, and the sadness. All he wanted to do was gather Yuuri into his arms and remove him from the situation—run with him until he could find a place to keep him safe from harm, for always. He didn't want the boy to have to face Wolfram. He didn't want him to have to remember what had happened. But, he knew there was no way for that to happen. He could protect Yuuri from any more physical harm Wolfram might be planning, but he couldn't protect him from his own thoughts. So, if Yuuri thought this was important, then Conrad would stand beside him in support. However, if his younger brother made the slightest move…indicating with the smallest word or gesture…that he was a threat to the king, Conrad would act without hesitation—brother or not. It was his duty as the Maou's protector, and his overwhelming instinct when it came to the man he loved.

He watched as Yuuri's smile became nostalgic and sad. The black-haired boy ran his fingers over the worn, splintered wood of the joists that had been left in place after the last bearbee hatchlings had left. This place hadn't been touched since that time, and it was almost like a time capsule—the memory of finding the boys, after the bearbees had taken flight was fresh in Conrad's memory. He had been in love with Yuuri even then, but he had been nowhere near being able to admit it to himself. Watching him now, Conrad wished he had had the courage to act sooner. To prevent this from ever happening.

"Do you remember how excited we were, how scared when we first fell down here and landed on the larvae?" Yuuri whispered.

"Sure, I remember," Wolfram said, his voice gruff. Conrad heard, with the ears he'd developed over a lifetime of being Wolfram's brother, the confusion under the young mazoku's seeming indifference.

"We argued, even then. You wanted to destroy them, in their cocoons. But, I stopped you. Do you remember that?"

"I was only trying to protect you, Yuuri. I was trying to keep you safe."

"I know that." Yuuri turned his sad smile onto Wolfram. "And in the end, it was your added strength that made it possible for the bees to hatch. We did a really good thing that day. Do you remember?"

"Yes. Yes, I do remember—I never forgot."

"Then how did we get here, Wolfram? You wanted to protect me, then, and you did. How did that turn into what we have now?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I suppose I should have seen the signs, even then. Maybe from the first time I even met you. I mean, Wolfram, the first thing you said to me when we were getting ready to have that duel, and I chose sumo, was that you had spent hours imagining me on my knees begging for mercy."

Conrad watched the embarrassment and anger wash over his younger brother's face. "Why are you talking about this? It's nonsense—it means nothing! You've been mocking me for years, Yuuri. You have no respect for me—none of you do." Wolfram's arm swung wide to include Conrad in his statement. "All I've ever done is love you, and you never cared at all. You used me when it was convenient, then ran after Weller every time I turned my back! You know I'm speaking the truth—deny it if you can."

"I did make mistakes, Wolfram." Yuuri whispered. "I didn't stop this engagement when I should have. I let things go, and I gave in…for way too long. I know I'm not perfect."

"Not perfect? Far fucking from it!" The blonde was shouting now. "Before you came along, things were just fine. You and your weakness—your desire to love everyone and everything you see—it makes me sick sometimes. You give yourself to everyone, like some cheap whore."

Conrad tensed, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword.

"Except for me! You never even gave me a chance. I've followed after you for years…years…and you barely even acknowledged me. You had time for everyone else. Anything else! So get off your pedestal, Yuuri. You're a selfish bastard and a pathetic Maou. How dare you stand there in judgment of me?"

His thumb released the latch, an inch of the blade showing.

"I'm not going to argue with you," Yuuri said, shaking his head. "You're not going to hear me, are you? I never tried to hurt you, and I never tried to make you look foolish. You have a problem, Wolfram. And you need help—help that I can't give you."

"You self-righteous little shit," Wolfram said, looking shocked. "Can you really stand there and tell me that after everything—after everything I've done for you and the way you have all treated me—that _I'm_ the one with the fucking problem?"

"Wolfram, this is over. If you can't even admit that there's something wrong—that what you've done is wrong—there's nothing I can do for you. You've made your choices, and I have to make mine. My priority now is Greta, and what has gone on between us can never happen again."

"Liar! You don't give a shit about Greta. If you did, you would be _HERE_…stay _HERE_…in Shin Makoku, instead of always running off to Earth, or on some adventure. You just want me out of the way so you can fuck my brother without a guilty conscience."

Yuuri's head snapped up as though he'd been slapped. "Shut up, Wolfram. Not another word."

Conrad hesitated, almost expecting to feel the wind that preceding the coming of the Maou. The air remained thick and still, but something in Yuuri's voice made him take another step toward the young king. His sword still at the ready.

"Why should I? It's true isn't it? So, tell me, cheater, how long have you been the Maou's bitch?" Wolfram said, turning to Conrad. "You covered it well, I'll grant you that—all your speeches about my infidelity. Funny, I never would have guessed you as the catcher, Conrad—I always thought that was Yuuri's job. At least it was for me—you know that right? Did he tell you all about it? Not as good as I'm used to, a little frigid really, but, still, once he got into it—"

The ringing of steel loosed from a scabbard rang through the air. The sound brought thundering footsteps from overhead. Conrad held the point of his blade to his younger brother's throat.

"And that will be Big brother and his little bitch, too. You're all so perfect aren't you? The Maou's good little soldiers—so sure you know what's best for me, for everyone. I fucking hate you. I hate every one of you. You're not half the men you think you are."

"Conrad, stop," Yuuri said, softly.

The older man never broke eye contact with his younger brother. He heard the King's words, but he couldn't let the insult to the man he loved stand. No one spoke to Yuuri that way. No one.

"Conrad, sheath your sword. Put it away. I…I've heard worse, ok? Stop it."

Gritting his teeth, Conrad slowly lowered his blade.

"Heika…?"

"We're ok, Gunter."

"Very well, Heika," Gwendal said, from some place above them, and then there was only the sound of their footsteps retreating.

"It's not too late, Wolfram," Yuuri said, gently. "You can stop this right now, and we can come to a decision together. Make peace with me. Think about Greta. I can't…forget what happened, but…I can forgive you, Wolfram. I know things haven't been easy for you, and even though you and I may never be friends, we can still find some common ground. We had good times, too, didn't we? Don't set yourself against your brothers—against me. I don't hate you, even after everything, I don't hate you—but I really do want you to get help. I want you to be the man you were always meant to be. Can't you see that?"

"Don't," Wolfram said, his eyes flashing. "Don't you do that. Don't you _dare_ do that. I don't want your forgiveness. I don't want that stupid, hopeful, innocent look in your eyes turned to me—like you don't understand why everyone doesn't see life your way. You're the ones who are wrong. Not me!"

"You really believe that?"

Wolfram didn't answer, merely crossed his arms over his chest and turned his back. Conrad struggled to breathe. How was this happening? This was his baby brother, the child he had loved to distraction when he was younger—and he had almost run him through with his sword. The distraught look on Yuuri's face, the sadness in his eyes, broke Conrad's heart. He didn't know the sum total of what it cost the boy to try and reach Wolfram's heart, but it was clear that even if he wanted to reconcile himself—wanted to apologize—Wolfram's pride would not allow it. He was going to dig his heels in and fight Yuuri tooth and nail. Some part of Conrad knew that if he, himself, didn't exist then something might have been different, but just because Wolfram had made a series of unconscionable choices did not mean that Conrad was willing to sacrifice himself or Yuuri to the boy's selfish desires. Maybe someone should have confronted Wolfram a long time ago, but, he couldn't change history. He could only hold on a little longer, then try and help Yuuri build a future—with or without Wolfram.

"Wolfram Von Bielefeld. You are banished from Blood Pledge Castle and Shin Makoku." Yuuri whispered. "I expect you to stay in contact with Greta, and your family, by mail or other means, but until you have solved your problems, you are no longer welcome in this country."

"You can't do that!" The blonde gasped, turning around. "You have no right!"

"I am the Maou." Yuuri said, his voice stronger than Conrad had heard it in months. "And this is my judgment. A wise man once reminded me that Mazoku live very long lives, and circumstances change—feelings, too—and we learn to live with them. It is my hope you will find your way back to yourself, Wolfram, back to the man I know you are. As soon as you do, I hope you will also find your way back to us. I live in hope of that day, and I always will."

Conrad sheathed his sword. He should have seen this coming, should have known that Yuuri would find a way to show mercy alongside of his judgment. He watched as the young man turned, his shoulders a bit straighter than they had been, and made his way back across the room and up the steps that lead to the top floor. Without the intervention of the Maou, or rather, the manifestation of the magical part of himself, Yuuri had still come up with a solution that left the door open for Wolfram—put the onus on the man himself to redeem himself for his own mistakes. He had never looked more like a King, and Conrad had never been more proud of him.

He was about to follow Yuuri, already planning on how best to nurture his Maou and his love through the difficult days ahead when he heard Wolfram growl.

"Weller! This is your fault. You've ruined everything!"

Conrad turned, in time to see Wolfram raise his hand.

"All the spirits that make up the element of fire, obey this brave Mazoku that summons you," his younger brother shouted.

Conrad drew his sword, throwing himself backwards, as far from Yuuri as possible, knowing that Wolfram was aiming for him alone.

But.

Nothing appeared. No orb of fire, no flash of brilliance. Wolfram stared at his hand, dumfounded.

"It won't work."

Conrad looked up to see Gwendal coming down the stairs, Gunter following behind him. Yuuri was still standing there, a look of shock on his face.

"It won't work for you anymore, Wolfram," Gunter repeated Gwendal's statement. "Maybe you never actually listened to the words you've said to summon your magic, but, they are important. Only a brave Mazoku can control the elements—and to injure someone under your protection, to harm an innocent, is to break the contract. You will not be able to use magic again until you purify your soul and atone for your sin."

"Gwendal…?" the Maou asked, as Conrad came to his side, sliding his arm around Yuuri's shoulders.

"I was younger even than you, Wolfram. I thought my life was over. Anissina taught me to knit. I struggled for a long time. I met Gunter. And I changed. But, Heika is right…nothing is forever, and you can change, we all can. Go, discover who you were meant to be, and come back to us—as heika has commanded."

Conrad shook his head. He'd never heard Gwendal say so many words at one time, and he knew what that confession must have cost the stoic man. Even he had no idea that somehow, at one time, Gwendal, too, had lost the ability to command his maryoku. But if he got it back, did that mean Yuuri could, too? He let his gaze fall on his younger brother. Wolfram looked completely lost, and perhaps he was. He could not, in his heart, bring himself to forgive the man for what he'd done to Yuuri. He didn't know if he could ever forgive Wolfram. Conrad was not possessed, after all, of a heart so tender and forgiving as the man he loved. He was, however, loyal—to a fault, and focused solely on the black-haired boy that made his life worth living. And that young man stood before him now, still holding a brave face against the trials of the day. He had done what he was told, commanded by his king. He had stayed out of the way, and let Yuuri handle this himself. Now, he was free to act. And he was taking Yuuri home.

--O.o.O—

The night was dark, clouds obscuring the moon, making it difficult for even the most experienced night-creature to see. Yozak Gurrier, however, had spent a lifetime in the shadows, and the darkness was as comfortable and welcoming to him as a warm blanket. He needed very little more than a breath of wind to carry scent his way, and the occasional sound—perhaps the snap of a twig—whose discordant note indicated something was there that shouldn't be. Yes, the night was his friend, his companion through many years' faithful service as the infamous spy of Shin Makoku. It was no trouble to him, then, to track a man whose very arrogance caused him to storm across the land like a herd of sheep running from Maou Dumplings.

He caught up with Wolfram the same evening the former soldier left the castle. He tracked him, at a discreet distance, until they crossed the border into the neighboring country. That night, that black night without stars or moon, the angry young blonde built his fire and made his camp against an outcropping of rock, shadowed and protected by an overhang. A smart move. The brat wasn't as stupid as he first appeared.

So, Yozak waited. He could, when pressed, show the same patience has his taichou. Eventually, as he knew the man must, Wolfram left the protection of his meager fire and sought the privacy of nearby bushes to relieve his bladder. Yozak shook his head—sometimes modesty really didn't have a place. But, that didn't prevent him from taking advantage of the opportunity the boy had unwittingly provided him. He crept up, stealthy as a large cat, and before Wolfram could finish shaking the remaining drops of urine into the bush, Yozak's short sword was at his throat.

"Evening, Your Excellency—or is it just Wolfram now?"

"W—what do you want?" The boy's voice shook, just the tiniest bit, but he still managed the cocky tone Yozak knew so well.

The tall man ignored the question. "So, tell me" he purred into Wolfram's ear. "Did it make you feel like a man? Mmmmm? Did you get nice and hard when you were hitting him?"

"F—fuck you!"

"No thanks, Brat. My hand's a better lay. I didn't come here to dance, anyway. I just came here to give you a word of advice. Are you listening?" To impress upon Wolfram the care with which he should heed his next words, Yozak pushed the tip of his sword into the younger man's neck. "Just remember this…no matter where you go, where you might decide to lay your head at night—_I can always find you_. If you even think about revenge, about doing anything other than taking Yuuri-heika's words to heart, I'll have to come back. I'll have to pay you another little visit, just like I have tonight. But, you know what? I'm getting old Wolfram, and my hands have started to shake a little. Sometimes they even slip. I'd hate for there to be an accident. Wouldn't you?"

"Yes," the young Mazoku whispered, his voice finally reflecting the healthy fear Yozak thought he should have.

"There's always someone bigger than you in the world, Brat. There's always someone with a harder fist, a sharper, faster sword, a better fighter—there's always someone. So, if I were you, I'd remember that—and keep an eye out."

Then he let the young prince go, melting back into the darkness that opened its arms to welcome him—as it always did. He had, strictly speaking, heeded the promise he'd made to Yuuri. He hadn't killed Wolfram. Yozak Gurrier was, after all, a man of his word. However, he was also a ruthless spy, a silent assassin, and the primary reason why Gwendal's military intelligence was so uncannily accurate. And he did the things that no one else could.

He did not hold the king's heart, even if the young Maou would always hold his. So, he did the only thing he could—he protected him from afar. He suppressed the urge to hum a snatch of a song, preferring to remain a mysterious shadow on this of all nights. There was a rumor that the King of Shin Makoku was about to propose to Sir Conrad Weller. Yozak had wagered his pay for the next month on it, in fact. For the first time in his life, he thought it was a sure bet. He couldn't help it that part of his large, generous heart actually prayed that he'd lose.

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_And there we have it. Wolfram not executed but banished with a hope of return. We have not heard the last of him in this fic, though...his actions are far reaching indeed. Now, before I go, and I will answer reviews, asap, I promise, I just want to mention one thing. I am not only very grateful and thankful for everyone who reads this story, and those who take the time to review, but I really appreciate your kind words about my writing, and I love your suggestions and your thoughts. So many of you who have taken the time to review have done so with such depth that it has been very much my pleasure to continue and to answer. You are such clever, clever readers! How did you __know that Cheri-sama would eventually be shown? How did you __know that the little neko-chan would make another appearance? You have really made me smile and I'm blushing, too--am I ever going to surprise you guys?? Hehe, we'll see...as we're winding to the finish now. I have a day off tomorrow, so after the cats go to the vet for boosters (Their names? Why, Wolfram and Lucy, thanks for asking!), I'll be writing all day. Expect an early update...and a small weather advisory for strong winds...maybe! --SN  
_


	7. Chapter 7

_Greetings, Dear Readers! I have been working steadily on chapter 7, and it looks like it will be chapter 8 before the secret of the Maou Mode Mystery is revealed. Also, it looks like chapter 8, and the epilogue will finish Desperate Times, and I'm a little sad to be coming to the end. But, there are still loose ends to tie up, and maybe some affectionate interaction, because, really, Conrad has been such a patient man. However, I've tried to remain true to the story I'm telling and I think that if Yuuri were all of a sudden to become a ferocious lover, well, that wouldn't really fit. The site dumped some of your reviews in my box late this afternoon, and some not at all--and hey, I'm still thrilled just to know you've read at all! I thought about adding a review in reply myself, just to answer--but, I wonder if that's quite the "done" thing here? Insight is always appreciated. Now, on to Chapter 7 which I now think of--the fallout from Wolfram's leaving. Thanks again, so so much, and I will see you, as always, at the bottom of the page..._

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**Chapter Seven: Everyday I write the Book**

Standing in front of the door to the dining room, Yuuri found himself loathe to turn the handle and go inside. How could he just walk in and pretend like the events of the day hadn't happened. He had, after Conrad had walked him back to the castle, forgone the comfort of his handsome soldier's embrace and chosen, instead, to spend time in his office. He was pretty sure that he'd hurt Conrad's feelings, but, after everything…he really wanted to be alone. The conversation he had with Wolfram played in a repetitive loop in his head…one phrase making a groove in his mind: _you give yourself away like a cheap whore_. Yuuri frowned. He knew, in his heart, that it wasn't really true, but Wolfram had always had a knack for saying the things that would hurt the young king the most. He did feel cheap, used up, and in no way worthy enough to be the partner to a man so honest and good as Conrad Weller. He had, however, managed to finish the confrontation. Painful as it had been, horrific really, and terrifying, Yuuri still felt a tiny sense of accomplishment. He had done something himself, for once. It was a first, tentative step into his future. He wished with all his heart that Wolfram would take a step into his own, and that someday…someday…this day would feel like a bad dream long past. Still, he thought, looking at the door, he didn't think he could face Wolfram's empty chair—a symbol of the finality of his judgment as king. He took a deep breath, and tried to reach inside himself to find a last bit of courage, then he opened the door.

_Empty._

The table was set, and a quick glance at his watch confirmed that the dinner hour was upon them. He saw two maids, and felt suddenly self-conscious under their curious gaze. It was like the entire castle was holding its breath. Suddenly, it was just too much. Yuuri turned and fled.

He wandered the corridors, surprised that he met no one during his rambling journey. The growling of his stomach, however, reminded him that no matter how tragic events became, the body really didn't much care. Survival was an instinct as much as it was a conscious choice. He hadn't been eating well for months, and as if it had finally had enough, Yuuri's stomach demanded attention. So, the young Maou turned back and headed back the way he came.

In the Shibuya household, as it was in many households on Earth, the kitchen was the heart of the home. He had, as a boy, received all his father-to-son talks from Shibuya Shoma at the small dining table the family used for light meals. He had done his homework there, many nights, when he needed help from Shori and his room felt much too cramped. It was there that his mother fabricated and created her delicious curry—and what would Yuuri have given at that moment to have Miko Jennifer's special curry made with her love. Yuuri respected and trusted his advisors, loved Conrad Weller, and felt a kinship with everyone in the castle in some way—but right now, the young boy in him wanted his mother. He wanted to feel her arms around him, to hear her bright, cheerful voice which always managed to coax him from whatever blue mood had overtaken him at any given time. He wanted to put his head on her shoulder and hear her call him "Yu-chan," and see her smile at him as though whatever problem he might be facing was immaterial, conquerable in the face of her devoted mother's love. He would even be happy if she was pouting about his decided lack of wings, anything, just so long as he could be with her.

The loneliness he felt, the overwhelming homesickness, guided his feet and he ended up in the kitchens at Blood Pledge Castle. The cooks, the maids, all of whom were occupied in some fashion, apparently fashioning trays for certain residents stopped what they were doing when he came in.

"Heika?" The head chef said, in surprise as the Maou stepped inside. "Is there something wrong, your majesty? Can we do something for you?"

"I was just wondering," he said, blushing a little and scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment, "if I could sit here for a while. I don't want to be in the way."

"Of course, Heika! It is an honor to have you here."

"What are you making?" Yuuri asked as the chef directed the maids to lay bowls on the trays.

"The General and the Adjutant have requested dinner in the General's office. Weller-kyo ordered something for you, Heika, which is why I was surprised to see you. Cheri-sama has sent word that she and Princess Greta intend to have a small picnic on Cheri-sama's balcony…"

"What about Yozak? Is he here?"

"No, Heika, Gurrier-kyo came by earlier and asked for provisions for a few days. He has a mission, I think, but said he would return before the week was out."

"Oh. I see."

Yuuri felt broken inside. Everything was splintering in front of him, and all he could hear was his mother's voice, explaining to him that a family is held together by love. He felt his family, here, was breaking apart and Wolfram hadn't been gone for a whole day, yet."

"Reconciliation begins with the stomach," he murmured. "Food prepared with love is the medicine that heals the family."

"I beg your pardon, Heika?" A passing maid asked. "What does that mean?"

"Oh," Yurri said, blushing again. "It's just something my mother used to say. Sometimes when things were tough, when I was little, you know, like if my parents had an argument or something, my mom would make an elaborate dinner and insist we all sit down to eat together. She used to say that food prepared with love is the medicine that heals the family."

The maid was staring at him, her eyes open wide, and he felt foolish. He was the Maou and he supposed that the kitchen staff really didn't want to hear about his home back on Earth.

"What a wise and wonderful mother you must have, Heika." The Chef smiled. "If you will pardon me for saying so. Forgive us, Heika, please. I have worked in the kitchens here at the castle for more than one hundred years, and this is the first time we have had the Maou as a guest."

"I really like this room. It is warm with the fire, and the table here is more like mine at home—the dining room table is so huge, sometimes I can hardly hear what everyone is saying. But, the food you make is always so good. I have sent my compliments before, but, I just wanted to say it myself."

"Thank you, Heika. We try very hard to please." The Chef said in an awed voice.

As if to illustrate his thoughts, his stomach took that opportunity to growl. "I'm so sorry," he said, embarrassed. "I guess everything just smells so good."

"Heika! Why didn't you say so…I will fix you something right away. What would you like?"

Yuuri sighed. He wanted his mother's curry, but he couldn't get that here. However, is second favorite comfort food leaped to mind, and he had to admit that he really needed comfort.

"Do you know how to make a grilled cheese sandwich? You know, melted on bread? Sometimes if you have some bacon that's cooked crisp, it's nice between the cheese."

"I have never made one, Heika, but I'm sure I can."

"I could show you," Yuuri said suddenly. "Would you mind if I helped?"

"Heika!" the man breathed, his eyes sparkling. "I would be honored if you would be so kind as to demonstrate the preparation of a dish from your home."

"I like to cook," Yuuri said as he left his place at the rustic table and came around to where the chef was working. "At home my mother always prepares the meals, but she has taken a lot of time to show my brother and me how to fix some nice dishes. She says that a man who cooks is a man who can be trusted."

"She is truly wise, your mother," the cook said, nodding his head.

Yuuri busied himself with setting up the materials for the sandwich he wanted. He sliced cheese and used a serrated knife to cut thick squares of bread, then showed the chef how thin the rashers of bacon should be cut in order to prevent them from sliding out of the melted cheese when eating the sandwich. He made one, as an example, watching the bread carefully, so that the final result yielded a perfectly browned, but not burned outside, with a melty-gooey inside and the slight crunch of smoky bacon. He cut the sandwich into bite-sized pieces and insisted on everyone in the kitchen trying a nibble.

"Heika, it's so simple, but so delicious! Would you be offended if we added these to the supper trays tonight? I think they are the perfect choice for tonight's meal."

"I don't mind. I can fix them, if you like. Though, it would be even better if we had tomato soup to go with them. I think that's the best."

"We made roasted tomato soup for this evening's meal, Heika—it's cream-based, if that's all right."

"It must be fate calling," Yuuri said, smiling, repeating a phrase Miko Jennifer used often to explain those happy little moments of serendipity that occurred in life.

In very little time, with the assistance of the efficient kitchen staff, Yuuri had made a large number of grilled cheese sandwiches. Bowels were filled with steaming soups, plates prepared, and covers capped them all. Then, like a small supply line, maids were dispatched to deliver the trays to their final destinations. Yuuri smiled sadly. It wasn't like home—with the family seated together—but at least he could send some of his love to all the people he cared about so much. He insisted on going further, though, because it wasn't enough he thought to just stop with the trays. He insisted on cooking for the kitchen staff, too, ordering them to stop their work and eat while the sandwiches and soup was hot.

"Normally, we eat later, Heika—in the servant's hall." The Chef had objected.

"Just for tonight, then, ok? I really don't…want to be by myself anymore."

So, even though it began a bit awkwardly—none of the staff had ever shared a meal with the Maou before, much less eaten food reserved for the nobility that had been prepared by the king's own hand—soon, Yuuri was sharing a warm meal with people whose smiles seemed genuine, and he was happy to hear their laughter even if he couldn't share in it. He was still too sad.

_Conrad was the first to arrive_.

Yuuri looked up, to see his knight in the doorway, a look of tender concern on his face, holding a tray. "I thought I mis-heard the maid," he said, giving Yuuri a tentative smile. "She said you made the dinner tonight, and that you were in the kitchen."

"Yeah," Yuuri replied, his throat tightening and tears prickling at his eyes. "I…I…well, it's hard to explain."

"Heika has been telling us of his wise mother, Weller-kyo," the old chef said, coming, Yuuri thought, to his rescue. "And he was gracious enough to teach us to make this dish from his home on Earth."

"The Maou's mother is a formidable woman," Conrad agreed. "Would it be all right if I stayed here with you, Hei…Yuuri?"

Yuuri's heart seemed to fly at the simple question. It was the first time, ever, that Conrad had called him by name in a situation like this. Even if he called him Yuuri in private, or in front of Gwendal and Gunter, he still insisted on maintaining decorum in front of others. The tears that had threatened, now sprang into his eyes. "Come in…" he said. "I mean, yes, please. Come sit, Conrad. Eat."

_Gwendal and Gunter arrived together_.

"Heika!" Gunter said, after explaining that they'd received the same intelligence from a different maid concerning the castle's guest chef. "I had no idea you were an adept in the kitchen. Thank you so much for your kindness—"

"I'm hungry, Gunter," Gwendal cut in. "Heika? May we join you?"

Places were shifted, plates adjusted and two more men settled around the rough-hewn table in the kitchen. Yuuri smiled for what felt like the first time in months.

_Cheri-sama was the last to arrive, holding Greta's hand._

"Papa Yuuri! You made dinner? The sandwich tastes really good—and looks so much better than your cookies!"

"Greta," he said, holding his arms open to his daughter. "Come here, are you still hungry?"

"Yep. Cheri-sama and I were having a picnic, but you didn't make enough food!"

Yuuri squeezed his little girl, taking a moment to tickle her chin and they shared a special nose-rub. It was impossible for him to remain completely somber when Greta was nearby. He supposed the little girl might never know it, because she thought he'd adopted her because she needed someone—a father, but he needed her, too.

As he stood at the stove, making more sandwiches, that required sending one of the maids for more bread and cheese, Yuuri listened to the warm buzz of conversation. It wasn't normal by any means, especially since the one subject not discussed was conspicuous by its absence, but it felt almost right. At least they were all together and that was what mattered. Gwendal ended up eating seven grilled cheese sandwiches, by himself, even glaring at Gunter when the beautiful man made a motion to take a bite of the last one. "Touch it at your own risk, Gunter. I can't be responsible for my actions if you do."

This stern statement brought a round of amused chuckles, then Greta said, "Yuuri, where's Wolfram? Doesn't he want some, too?"

Yuuri stumbled, burning his hand slightly on the hot handle of the iron skillet. Silence descended on the room, sucking all the air it seemed, and making it hard to breathe.

"Your Papa has had to go on a special mission, Greta-kun," Cheri-sama said, her voice soft and surprisingly even. "He is going to search for something of great value, a special treasure."

"But…how long is he going to be gone?"

"I don't know," the beautiful woman said, cocking her head and smiling at the little girl. "But he's the only one who can find it. But I'm sure we will hear from him, soon."

"Is it a lost treasure, like the Mateki that Yuuri found?"

"It's even more special," Yuuri said, sharing a look with the woman who had been Maou. "And I know he's going to be successful."

"Yes," Cheri-sama agreed.

"Oh. Well, I hope he gets me a present, too."

"I am certain you can count on that, Greta." Conrad said, smiling at the little girl.

And the moment passed. Yuuri knew that it was only a temporary stay. As the days passed, Greta would have more questions, and he would do his best to answer them, but he would just have to take it one day at a time. Even though the conversation resumed, there was an off-note, and the words became forced. Soon, Greta was taken to bed, riding on Gwendal's strong shoulders, and holding Gunter's hand. Yuuri rolled up his sleeves, beginning to tidy the mess he'd made in the kitchen, much to the stunned horror of the staff. And if they were surprised by that, they were positively stunned when Cheri-sama kissed her middle son on his cheek and sent him off with a whispered requeset. Then, the present and former Maou stood side by side, as the young man washed dishes and the gorgeous Queen dried.

Yuuri took a deep breath, almost as nervous to speak to Cheri-sama as he had been to confront Wolfram. Understanding that something was happening, the entire staff tried to find small chores to prolong their presence in the kitchen. Finally, the chef took pity on the black-haired Maou and chased everyone else out. When he left, he paused long enough to thank the King again, then he left as well.

"I'm really sorry, Cheri-sama," Yuuri said, before his courage failed him. "I…tried to fix things."

"You cannot repair the fault in my son, Heika," she said, her smile sad and forgiving. "I told you once, when Conrad had been separated from us, that he suffered from my sin. Wolfram does, too. He loves too much, I think I was so frightened then, when I thought Conrad would be gone from us forever, but you brought him home. If you tell me there is hope for Wolfram, then I will believe it."

"I want to believe there is. I just…I just don't know what to do now, Cheri-sama. I don't feel very much like a Maou. If I was a better ruler, maybe I could have fixed this."

"Don't make the mistake I made, Heika, when I was Maou. I didn't understand the politics that surrounded me, and I became afraid of making any decision at all. I…cannot accept my son's actions against you. I would ask you to believe that I never thought…never dreamed…he could do such a thing. Making no decision is still a decision, Heika…and my inaction and fear lead to my brother's ability to bring about the war he so desired. That conflict hurt us all. Afterwards, I spoiled Wolfram, everyone did—we had lost so much. So, I made mistakes too, but Wolfram must take responsibilities for his actions. You have already done that, and that is why you are a good Maou—far better than I ever was."

"I'm not brave, Cheri-sama. If it hadn't been for Conrad—I couldn't have done anything at all."

The beautiful woman smiled, a sudden light coming into her eyes. "He is so much like his father—I wish you'd met Dan Hiri, Heika. Conrad suffers, too, quietly and silently. I know, though, now that he will be happy. He has loved you for so long, and been so lonely. I know you will make my son very happy, and take care of his gentle heart."

"I love him," Yuuri whispered. "I don't deserve him."

"I felt the same about his father. But, you will find, I think, that Conrad will never accept that. Conrad is like his brother, Gwendal, too—when he loves, he loves completely. I wish you every happiness, Heika."

"You…don't blame me?"

"For what?" Cheri-sama dropped her towel and hugged Yuuri to her ample bosom, causing Yuuri to blush hotly. "You are irresistible, Heika—and many people will love you. Your heart belongs to my Conrad, no?"

"Always."

"And you have given my son Wolfram a chance to return to us, and that is more than I had hoped for. It is up to him now if he will search out his honor again. Forgive me, Heika, please, for my part in this."

"You've done nothing," he replied.

"Maybe that's the problem," she said, softly. Then Cheri-sama seemed to come out of her thoughts. "I think it is time for me to take another trip, Heika. I thought I would visit our allies and strengthen our diplomatic relations."

"Um. Cheri-sama, this wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that Francshire has a new ambassador who is rumored to be incredibly handsome…and single?"

Her light laugh brought a smile to Yuuri's face. "Oh, Heika, I can't control who Francshire appoints as ambassador. I also thought it might be a good idea if the lovely Princess came with me. Between my demon charm and her human cuteness, we can call it the _Tour of Beautiful Friendship_!"

Yuuri thought about it, considering what was best to do. "I don't want to let her go. Wouldn't it be best if she was with at least one parent?"

"She might think a little less about the one if she is on a journey, too. And…forgive me…but I think you could use a little time to heal, yourself. Is that not so, Heika?"

Yuuri swallowed hard, thinking about his dreams, and the way he still sometimes woke up scared and shaking. He didn't really want Greta to see that. "Ok," he said, finally. "But not for too long, ok?"

"Of course not, Heika…now, if you will excuse me, I need to order a wardrobe for the princess—she can't very well travel to different places without new clothes!"

Yuuri groaned. Cheri-sama shopping was a dangerous thing, and Gwendal was going to have kittens when he got the bill.

--O.o.O—

If there was one thing Gwendal Von Voltaire knew for certain, it was that time was reckoned differently between humankind and demons. His experience with Dan Hiri Weller had taught him that with a bittersweet finality. As the weeks passed, and life began to return to a kind of normality in the castle, he found himself musing on how it took far longer to heal from wounds that were quickly inflicted. How long was six months out of a life? Such a block of time could be defined as an eternity by beings whose life flared for a brief moment, then winked out almost as quickly as they began. For a demon, however, six months was an eye-blink, a quick sneeze—and if months were like moments, then weeks were like breaths. The inhabitants of Blood Pledge Castle, he thought, were breathing rapidly, indeed.

The comfort and solace he was able to take in his lover's arms, and he could not ever begin to explain what it meant for him to know that Gunter's patient devotion was something he could count on with the same assurance that he counted on each morning's sunrise, seemed to elude the royal couple. There were many mornings he came to his office to find a solitary Yuuri bent over his paperwork with determination that whispered of desperation more than interest. Gwendal had taken to walking with Gunter before dinner, when his schedule allowed, because his beautiful lover entertained a romantic notion that Gwendal appeared attractive in the soft glow of the afternoon sun. Sometimes on those walks, he would see his younger brother, standing on the bridge that crossed the Kotsugyozoku pond, leaning on his arms, looking out into the water—a solitary figure made bright by the sun.

Then, there had been the black eye. Conrad's arrival at the morning conference had, instead of marking the beginning of a planning session concerning Shin Makoku's fleet, sparked a soft discussion about the Maou's sleeping habits. It seemed that Yuuri had yet to return to the royal bedchamber, opting instead to spend his nights with his protector. Conrad, never one to tell tales, asked Gwendal's advice. Apparently, while they were sleeping, Conrad had tucked the young Maou into the curve of his body, then rolled over so that his legs were pinning the King to the bed—all while in slumber. Yuuri had come out of sleep, shouting and swinging, making contact with a still-snoozing Conrad's face, hence the black eye. Gwendal noticed that the king spent the following week apologizing to his younger brother if he even so much as brushed against him. What advice could he give? He, himself, practically suffocated Gunter in their sleep most nights, but it couldn't be helped. And it seemed that Conrad had inherited Gwendal's devotion to cuddling. Gwendal also, privately, considered asking Anissina to develop a machine that could remove the image of his little brother sleep-mauling the Maou—but thought better of it, considering what ramifications might arise from such an experiment.

And yet, there were brief flashes of hope, as well. More often than not, when Gwendal passed the King's private bath, on his way to his own chamber at night, he heard soft laughter, and splashing, then the decidedly lengthy silences that were punctuated only by sighs and throaty gasps—this coupled with the fact that Yuuri seemed to have permanently chapped lips told the General that at least the kissing portion of his younger brother's relationship was going well. Some knowledge, however, is not good to have and once again, he considered consulting Anissina.

It had become understood that when there were no guests, visitors, or foreign diplomatic visits that _the family_, as Yuuri called them all, took their meals in the large kitchen of the castle—the dining room now being reserved for formal functions. During these times, the King would lean into Conrad, his back to the soldier's chest, and the lazy, possessive arm that his brother slung around the young man's shoulders seemed perfectly in place. Gwendal had even noticed that the evening games of catch—his brother and his Maou in the courtyard tossing a baseball back and forth to one another—had been resumed. Were these not reasons to hope that Yuuri might be healing, if slowly?

But, for each step the couple took in a forward direction, there still seemed to be three or four sliding backwards. He couldn't help but respect Conrad's patience, and Gwendal knew that he could not, himself, have been so consistently thoughtful if he were in his brother's place. So, he did the only thing he could do—he maintained his silence, only offering a word of encouragement or advice if he was asked directly, and he knitted every night, until his joints ached and the calluses on his fingers bled.

Then had come the first argument. It was bound to happen eventually, all couples argue, and like death and tax-collecting, it was inevitable. Unfortunately, Gwendal felt responsible, even though he didn't think there was any way he could have avoided it. It began when he received a report that the Dragon Sanctuary had been poached. This news had thrown the King into a demonstrative rage, complete with tears and shouting, far in excess than what was called for considering that none of the dragons had actually been harmed. Conrad offered to lead a party out to investigate, and Gwendal had agreed. Conrad knew the area well, had men he trusted, and Gwendal was, for all his love of animals, not very comfortable with the dragons. The king had wanted to go along, but no one else thought it a good idea. Gwendal had remained silent, as Conrad explained that he needed to be able to move quickly, so it only made sense that a few hand-picked, experienced soldiers go with him. He added that going into a situation where known miscreants were certainly at work would be too dangerous for the Maou's presence. He added a few more salient points, and finished with a promise to return as soon as possible. Then his little brother made the ultimate mistake—he said he thought Yuuri wouldn't mind a few days apart; that it might do them all good. The king had stared at him, tears in his eyes, then turned on his heel and walked out of Gwendal's office. That night, Yuuri slept in the Royal Bedchamber. Alone.

The eerie silence was maintained for the next day and night. The King and his brother slept separately, again. And no one said a word. Gwendal and Gunter hid, yes hid, in their room and ate snacks that Gunter had pilfered from the afternoon buffet table. The next morning, as Conrad was checking his pack and made last minute adjustments to his saddle, Yuuri had appeared from inside the Castle. The Maou put his arms around Gwendal's younger brother and nestled against his chest. Conrad, his eyes uncharacteristically soft, leaned down and kissed the top of Yuuri's head, then his forehead, and finally his lips—all perfectly chaste, yet intimate touches. "I'll be back before you know it," he whispered, though Gwendal had been close enough to hear.

"Please be safe," the King said quietly. "I'll be here waiting."

Gwendal cleared his throat, and the couple stepped apart. The general thought he could actually hear the romantic sighs of all the staff—out of sight, of course but watching all the same.

Later that night, after sharing a meal with Gunter and the King, Gwendal handed the Maou the large animal he'd been knitting for weeks. The boy looked at it, admiring the softness of the yarn and praising Gwendal for his skill. It was nearly as tall the boy himself.

"It's a horse, Heika." Gunter said, as if that made sense.

Gwendal sighed, his eyebrow twitching. "It's a lion, Gunter."

Then the Maou did something Gwendal didn't anticipate. He handed the giant lion to Gunter, then threw his arms around Gwendal's waist, holding him tight.

"Thank you, Gwendal," the Maou whispered. "I can hug him while Conrad is away. I won't be so lonely."

Gwendal had looked at Gunter, from over the top of Yuuri's head, at a loss as to what to do. Gunter made motions, small at first, then demonstrated with larger motions until Gwendal finally understood. He lifted his arms, putting on hand on the back of the boy's head and one on his back, and gave him and awkward pat. That seemed to please the King, because he broke the embrace and took his lion back from Gunter.

"I'm going to call you Conrad," the Maou said to the plush animal, as though it could hear him, and walked away.

That night, the King slept in Conrad's room. The next morning, he moved his clothes into the smaller chamber and ordered the royal bedchamber be refitted for the maid's to use as a parlor of their own.

That brought them to where they were now. Gwendal was writing at his desk—a new desk that the Maou had specifically commissioned for him to replace the one he'd destroyed. The king himself was sitting at the conference table, signing documents. Gwendal looked up when he became aware that Yuuri had stopped working and was staring at him steadily.

"Heika?"

"Yuuri," the boy corrected automatically. "What's that you have there?"

Gwendal looked at his desk, then held up the leather-bound journal he'd been writing in. "It's my appointment diary, Yuuri. I'm just updating my schedule for tomorrow."

"Could I…could I look at it?"

Gwendal shrugged lightly and passed the book across his desk. The king got up and took the journal, studying it.

"So, it's blank when you start…?"

"Yes. I write down my appointments and certain notes—don't you have things like this on Earth?"

"Sure," the Maou replied, but his voice was thoughtful. "I just didn't know you used them here. Who wrote this entry—that's not your writing. Was it Gunter?"

Gwendal looked at the entry above the King's pointing finger. His eye twitched of its own accord. "Yes. Sometimes Gunter takes the liberty of adding tasks to my day."

"GVK, BT, CT, NE. What does that mean? GVK means Gunter Von Kleist obviously, but the others…?"

Gwendal swallowed and looked at his hands. "Bed Time, Cuddle Time, No Excuses."

Yuuri blushed and quickly handed the book back to Gwendal. "Where did you get it?"

"I order them from the stationer."

"Oh," he looked disappointed. "Does it take long for them to be delivered?"

"About a month. I order several at a time, though, Yuuri. Did you…did you want one of your own?"

The boy nodded, his eyes bright again. Gwendal sighed. He was such a strange young man, but he was so…cute sometimes.

"Well, take a look in the lower right drawer of my desk. They're all the same size, but some of the covers are different."

Gwendal resumed his writing as the Maou rifled through the bottom drawer of his desk.

"Can I take this pretty red one?" he asked.

"Of course, Hei…Yuuri."

The king took the journal and returned to his seat at the conference table. He opened the book, took up his pen and started writing. He was still writing when Gwendal finished making the last of his notes. As he stood and stretched his shoulders, he noticed that the boy was biting his lower lip and writing with determined, hurried motions.

"I've finished for the evening, Yuuri. Are you going to stay?"

"Yes, thank you, Gwendal. I'll be sure to close the door when I leave—you better hurry, you don't want to be late for cuddle time."

"Hn."

Gwendal left his office, feeling a slight blush on his cheeks. He was going to have to speak to Gunter about coming up with another, less obvious code.

--O.o.O—

It was late when Conrad returned to the castle, or to be more specific, very early. Dawn would break soon, and he was hoping he might catch a few minutes of rest before he had to report to Gwendal. His trip had been successful, the poachers having been easily apprehended and delivered to the local constable in charge of such matters. Dragon poaching carried a heavy fine and incarceration, after all, and Conrad knew, too, that Yuuri would be glad to hear that his beloved Pochi was safe—and a soon to be father. Perhaps he could arrange his schedule in a few months so that Yuuri could be there for the hatching. Conrad knew Yuuri would love that.

Before making his way to his bedchamber, Conrad stopped at his office—well, the office he now shared with Yuuri. Before he left, and certainly before Yuuri had removed himself back to his old bedroom, he'd grown used to sharing a room with Yuuri. But, his room was small, tiny in comparison to the King's chamber, and they'd found themselves bumping into each other and tripping over their belongings. It had annoyed Conrad, though he tried not to show it. He was, by nature, a tidy person. Yuuri called him a Spartan, and while he wasn't exactly sure what the reference meant, he was certain it had something to do with the fact that he didn't care to own many things. So, even though Yuuri wasn't overly slovenly, and he was, himself, very neat, the bedroom still became a minefield. So, it had been decided that his desk would be moved to the King's office, and it would become their shared office. He rather liked it. It was nice, when they were both working, to be able to look up and see the beautiful face of the man he loved.

Well, it was nice when they were getting along.

Conrad sighed in frustration, and kicked his boots off behind the sofa in the office. He was tired. And not just from the journey. The last few weeks had worn on him, though he was no where near the end of his patience. It was just that he felt so helpless—sometimes even his great hope dimmed. Yuuri was getting better, he thought, by very small degrees, but no matter what progress was made, it always seemed as though something happened to derail the process—again. At this rate, he wasn't sure if he'd ever get Yuuri to really trust him, to help his love to see that life would get better. Maybe if he'd been able to go home, to Earth, that would have made some difference, but despite their discreet attempts in every puddle they came across, Yuuri was still firmly rooted in Shin Makoku. The soldier also knew that Yuuri hadn't taken his advice and sought out either Gwendal or Ulrike-sama. When Conrad had asked him why not, Yuuri admitted, through tears, that he was afraid the answer might be that he could never go home again, and that as long as he avoided the conversation, the longer he could hold out hope that he'd see his mother, father, and brother again. Conrad couldn't begin to imagine how that must hurt his king, and his love. He couldn't imagine a life without Gwendal, but the loss of Wolfram—well, he felt he had some small understanding as to what Yuuri was missing.

He sat down at his desk and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he looked down to see something unfamiliar there—a red, leather journal was sitting on top of the polished surface. He picked it up, and turned it over in his hands. It certainly wasn't his, but, it had obviously been left here for him to find. Conrad opened the cover, stared for a moment, then settled back in his chair and began to read the words he recognized to have been written in Yuuri's sloping hand.

_Dearest Conrad_, the letter began, for it did seem to be a letter.

_I have been trying to think of a way to tell you some of the things I've been thinking, some of the things I've been scared about, too, but I haven't known how to begin. So, today, I saw that Gwendal had one of these journals and I thought maybe I would be able to write down my thoughts more easily than I can speak them. It's hard to talk to you sometimes, because when we're together, all I really think about is how much I love you and I just want to be with you then. This way, though, if I write it down, maybe it will make more sense, and it's like a record, too. You know what I mean? It's like a history of us…and that's a thought I like, because I want to be with you forever, and that means we'll have a history. So, if it's ok with you, I'm going to write in this journal and leave it for you to read, and maybe you can write back to me sometimes, too._

_I'm really sorry about fighting with you, the argument I mean. I know you weren't trying to reject me when you said you thought I shouldn't come on your trip. It just…hurt. I can't even tell you why, except that I don't like being apart from you. I don't like it when I get up first and leave because I've done something stupid, or have been crying again. You've been so good to me, so loving and patient, but I still get anxious because I keep thinking I should be over this by now—but I'm not. Sometimes when you hold me, or you kiss me, I remember what it was like with Wolfram and I get scared, or I hear what he used to say and I can't imagine that you really want to be with me. I'm sorry about that. I know it's my fault._

_And these past few days, since you've been gone, it's been awful. I have been sleeping in your bed, clinging to the new lion that Gwendal knitted for me, but it's not helping all that much. The weather has been nice, though, and yesterday I took a walk down by the orchard. I saw Leah, you remember her, right, the lady that we helped. She looked really happy, and I sat down with her and had a long talk while I helped her fold sheets. By the way, did you know that the maids iron all our bedsheets before they put them on our beds—do you think that's necessary? I don't. I think it's too much work for them! I mean we just sleep on them anyway. But, back to what I was saying. She's doing well, here at the castle, and even has some friends now. I was really glad. And she said something that I've been thinking about ever since we were talking. She said that the hardest part for both of us was going to be forgiving ourselves and believing, again, like we deserve love. I think she's right. It's going to be hard. In my mind, I know that I'm not at fault for Wolfram hurting me, but I still feel like I could have avoided it by fixing things a lot earlier._

_But what is really on my mind, and what I've been gathering my courage to write, is that I want…to be with you. I want to really be with you, like Gwendal and Gunter, you know? This whole time, since Wolfram left, you've been so wonderful. You treat me carefully and with nothing but love, and you back off when I get upset, and you hold me when I cry, but you never ask for anything for yourself. I think I'm right when I say that you don't want to be with me just to be my shoulder to cry on, though I love your shoulders because they're wonderful, but, you know what I mean. I just wish sometimes, that when we're kissing, and I really love kissing you, and you touch me…in a different place, like my chest, or my leg, you wouldn't just pull away when I freeze up. I'm just not used to feeling like I do when we're together. My only experience hasn't been that great, and I don't know as much as you might think. Sometimes, I freeze up because I don't know what to do, not because I'm afraid. Sometimes, sure, I get frustrated or angry at the way I react, too, but I'd rather you try and stay with me, than pulling away._

_I don't know if this letter helps you at all. And I have re-read what I've written and it's not perfect, but it sort of explains what I'm thinking. Finally, I just want you to know that I love you, with all my heart. You are so handsome that it makes my heart hurt just to look at you, and when you kiss me, I feel like my whole skin is on fire. No one could ever mean what you mean to me. No one will ever love you as much as I do either—and I promise I'll learn how to show it better. _

_I miss you so much it hurts. I hope you come home, soon, because I can't wait to see you again. It's not that I'm lonely, though I am, it's just that you're my favorite person in the world—either world—and I don't sleep right without you._

_Missing and loving you,_

_Yuuri._

_P.S. I moved into your room, sort of, while you were gone. I really hope you don't mind. If you do, I can find another room, but I won't ever stay in that other place again. I didn't do anything those couple of nights except cry and want to come find you. Come home soon. I really miss you. I do._

Conrad sat back, stunned, in his chair. He brushed his fingers over the words on the page, the thoughts of his Yuuri's heart. Had he been frustrated before? Had he been angry? He couldn't remember. All he could think of was that he was so in love with the King that his heart was heavy with it. He picked up his pen.

_Darling Yuuri_, he wrote in his bold script.

_I think this journal is a very good idea, one of your best and you have had many. When I came home tonight, I felt tired and worn out. Then I read your words and feel like a new man. Let this be, then, the first of many love letters I write to you—and even though I'm not skilled at writing them, I will improve, I hope, with time._

_I promised you that I would always be by your side, and that never changes. I cannot ever tell you how much your love and trust means to me, but I can tell you that I will spend the rest of my life trying to show you—with these words and with all my actions._

_I thought of you constantly while I was away—never once were you gone from my thoughts. I wanted only to return to you, take you in my arms, and hold you close again. I keep thinking of how lucky I am to have your love—because I don't deserve it. I have very little to offer you, no estate, and no wealth, not even a family name of consequence—the Wellers are from Dai Shimaron, and that means nothing to me since I consider myself a Mazoku, but I am the wealthiest man in the world, in my own eyes, because I have your love. I never expected to have this kind of happiness for myself. I thank you for that, and always will._

_There's a poet, from Earth, and I keep thinking of a few of his lines._

_Had I the heaven's embroidered clothes,_

_Enwrought with golden and silver light,_

_The blue and the dim and the dark cloths_

_Of night and light and the half-light;_

_I would spread the cloths under your feet;_

_But I, being poor, have only my dreams;_

_I have spread my dreams under your feet;_

_Tread softly because you tread on my dreams._

_I will give you everything I have, everything I am, Yuuri, because your happiness is my delight. That you can love someone like me is something I'll never understand, but, I'm greedy and selfish—so I'm going to keep it, and keep you, close to me for as long as I live._

_Your most faithful and loving,_

_Conrad_

Closing the book, and pressing it gently to his lips, Conrad placed the journal on top of Yuuri's desk. He picked up his boots and padded down the corridor, moving quickly and silenty despite his fatigue, toward his—their—chamber. When he stepped inside, he found Yuuri sleeping, his arms wound around the strangest looking lion he had ever seen. Smiling, Conrad slipped out of his shirt, and the rest of his clothes, never taking his eyes from the beautiful man in his bed.

After finding soft pajama bottoms, he slid in between the sheets, then leaned down to kiss Yuuri's soft lips. The Maou's eyes opened, widened, then became damp.

"I'm home," he whispered, tenderly kissing Yuuri again.

"I missed you so much!"

"Who's your friend there?" Conrad asked, taking the animal from Yuuri's arms and replacing it with himself.

"That's Conrad. He's for me to hug when you're not here."

"Well, I'm here now, and I'm rather jealous—so can I have those hugs instead?"

"As many as you want," Yuuri whispered, then squeezed him tight. "I'm sorry, Conrad, about being such a baby before you left."

"It was just a silly argument, Yuuri, and we'll have many more, I'm sure. But, it does give me an opportunity to teach you something new, if you'd like to learn…?"

"What's that?"

"How to make up."

Conrad Weller was a patient man, a thoughtful man, and a skilled teacher. Any exhaustion he might have felt flew away from him when he felt Yuuri's first hesitant touches—the younger man's innocence firing his blood in a way that the skilled hands of the world's most talented courtesan never could.

The sun's light was streaming through the window before Conrad and Yuuri finally fell asleep in each other's arms. For the first time since he'd confessed his love to his King, Conrad was finally comfortable in bed. The lesson had not reached the ultimate conclusion, but, he wasn't complaining. Sleeping naked, his bare skin pressed to Yuuri's equally bare skin was pretty damned close to perfection.

* * *

_The poem, Had I the Heaven's Embroidered Cloths is, again, from W.B. Yeats. I'm not even a huge fan of Yeats and yet, he keeps on showing up in this fic! I am glad now, to finally be at the part, where I can concentrate on ConYuu, but I'm still working on tying up loose ends. So, I hope this works well, and I'm looking forward to writing tomorrow's chapter! many of you, in your reviews have expressed your happiness with Yuuri's response to Wolfram, and I have to admit, I was pleased, too. I am trying to limit outside influences in this fic, because I think that the characters are rich enough to provide opportunities for study. Even in my professional work, I am always interested in what makes people behave the way that they do. I am extremely lucky to have readers who are savvy, thoughtful, and interested in the same. Thank you so much for reading, and for your thoughts on this work. You are all truly wonderful. See you tomorrow...! --SN_


	8. Chapter 8

_Hello, dear readers! Well, here we are in Chapter Eight and my earlier thought was incorrect—it will require one more chapter to finish this story, and maybe an epilogue but that is undecided. I have debated on how I want to tie up Wolfram's loose end in this story, and now it has become clear to me how to accomplish that—but that is for chapter 9. And, let me apologize before we get started for the delay in posting. I have two reasons, one is good, the other—well, not so much. First, I wanted to talk with some colleagues about sexual experience when it comes to victims of the kind of abuse Yuuri has suffered in this story, because I wanted that to flow believably. Second, and not so good reason, well…there was an impromptu party at my house and the surfeit of wine consumed by this author meant I had to invoke that old adage: don't drink and write. Now, however, everyone is sober again (yay!) and I have this chapter for you. And, a word on that, before I post this and then answer reviews. I have a sneaking suspicion that some of you have a direct connection to my computer, or perhaps even some small part of my brain—because, it is uncanny the way I will finish a chapter, get it ready to post, then read your reviews that discuss things which I've only JUST finished typing! Seriously—twitty—what's up with that? How do you always know just where I'm heading? And Strega, you are such a careful reader—you picked up on the curry. Yes, I think I didn't quite make it clear enough in the chapter, because Yuuri can get a curry close to his mom's while in Shin Makoku, but I had the idea in my head that at that moment, he was so homesick for his mom that only her particular curry would do. My room mate and I had been discussing the importance of the perfect grilled cheese sandwich to right all the emotional wrongs of the world—hence the decision by Yuuri for a substitute comfort food. That is one of the things I love about writing—how something small and seemingly unrelated in your own life can work into a story and make for a nice detail. All that being said…let's move on to chapter eight. Believe it or not, the title is taken from an ICP song, which seems completely at odds with this story, but made me think of Conrad all the same. Thank you so very much for reading. I hope you know how grateful I remain, to all of you! And welcome, too, to Kuroneko1571, I am so glad you are enjoying this! I would share this basket of Minty's cookies, but…well, I'm just a piggie, and can't! Remember, I don't own KKM, but if I did…I would really make a sweetheart for Yozak deserving of his awesome-ness (perhaps Yuuri's twin?) See you all at the bottom of the page…_

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Ride the Tempest**

It was late summer in Shin Makoku, a time when a seasoned soldier's thoughts turned to flights of fancy and the pursuit of love—or just possibly getting his lover to do more than brush against his erection in passing, before jumping away as though he'd been burned. The tall man sighed, the sound sharp and frustrated, and settled back into the bath. He was alone, for once, and could give free rein to his thoughts. By nature a pragmatist, Conrad had expected that his courtship of Yuuri would be slow and full of plateaus, but what he was going through now was more, and less, than he could have ever anticipated. He supposed it was just the problem of trying to reconcile the reality of a situation against the fantasies he had been creating in his mind, for years. In his dreams, things were simple. In his dreams, before Wolfram and everything after, he would sweep Yuuri off his feet, declare his undying love (Yuuri always reciprocated, with a blush and stammered confession of his own), then spend hours making the boy writhe beneath him, squirming, mewling, even screaming in pleasure. He had whiled away many hours with such pleasant daydreams. Then, too, in his dreams, he and the Maou were always one—one heart, one mind, one soul it had seemed and there was no need to explain or have discussions. In his fantasies, Yuuri always knew what he was thinking, and Conrad could simply feel what the king was feeling. There was no awkwardness.

Now, though, in the real world where they both existed, Conrad was slowly losing patience. He amended that thought. He wasn't exactly losing patience as much as he was just burning out. At first, he thought the journal that Yuuri had begun would solve this problem—giving them a way to communicate the darker feelings, as well as their gentler emotions. To be honest, it had helped a great deal. He had learned a lot about Yuuri's fears, and the discovery of just how much the young king loved him—_really loved Conrad_—had put to rest any of the soldier's doubts that the young man only wanted him because he was a strong protector. But, even the journal was not enough to bring a satisfying resolution to his current difficulties.

Conrad's cock twitched in sympathy. _Their current difficulties_.

There was not one being alive, demon or human, who could ever question Conrad Weller's loyalty and love for the twenty-seventh Maou of Shin Makoku…but…if he had to wake up one more morning, with his arms full of the most beautiful, sweetest, desirable king Shin Makoku had ever seen, to have the boy grind back onto his permanently hard, permanently frustrated erection, only to have the boy turn and tease him into madness with hot, open mouthed kisses, then only to have that same beautiful man spring away in fear when his leg, his hand, his stomach—whatever part of him happened to graze Conrad's cock—the king's protector was going to go mad. Sexual frustration, he thought bitterly, does not a happy Conrad make.

Conrad ducked beneath the warm water and held his breath as long as he could, concentrating on the feeling of the water against him, lapping at his skin. How he wanted a different, warm wet part of Yuuri lapping against him. Breaking the surface of the water, Conrad groaned out loud. He wanted Yuuri so much his entire being ached and because of Wolfram and the young man's natural reticence, he despaired of ever having him. Still his member throbbed with undeniable need. He lifted his right hand, fingers a little pruned from the amount of time he'd been in the bath, and sighed. A poor substitute, to be sure, but the only relief he had from the overwhelming frustration. Conrad grasped the shaft of his cock and started to stroke, imaging Yuuri in the place of his palm. The very thought of the man he loved was enough to set his heart pounding, and at least if he managed it this way he might get through another day without making a complete fool of himself. He let his mind wander to his favorite fantasy—the one where Yuuri offers himself to Conrad under the shade of the tall tree that over hangs the Kotsugyozoku pond. His imagination painting a brilliant picture of a sun-kissed Yuuri moaning beneath him, meeting Conrad's thrusts with decidedly lascivious movements of his own, the soldier quickly pushed himself past the point of no return.

"C—Conrad? What…what are you doing?"

The tall man's eyes flew open, his orgasm pulsing out and over his fingers, even as he saw the object of his sexual desire staring at him—_appalled_—from the doorway. Well, how was he supposed to answer? Wasn't obvious? His mind objected in both embarrassment and anger—_Coming on my stomach, Heika, sorry. Did you want something—because you certainly don't seem to want me_.

Conrad opened his mouth, to answer, trying to calm his racing heart, but the heartbroken look on Yuuri's face stilled his tongue. The young man turned and fled from the room, leaving Conrad shaking with a different kind of frustration, a sour stomach, and very much alone.

He exploded out of the bath, his muscles twitching with energy and dried off as quickly as he could. Stopping only to secure a towel around his waist, Conrad chased after the king, following the Maou to their shared room. When he stepped inside and closed the door, the first thing he noticed was Yuuri standing, with his back to him, at the window. The next thing he noticed was the bookcases in a different spot. The bed was on the opposite wall, the chest where they kept their hairbrushes and other small items that always found their way into pockets was now under the window. His eyes fell, finally, on the small table where Yuuri had arranged a few of Conrad's items—and his eye started twitching.

"I'm sorry, Yuuri," he began, taking a long, shuddering breath. "I didn't mean to surprise you."

"No," the young man said, and Conrad could hear the tears in his voice. "You were bathing in private and I just burst in. It's my fault."

"This isn't about fault. Don't blame yourself, please." _And it's not my fault either_, he wanted to shout. _I can't help it if I need some kind of release_.

"I—I didn't know you did that."

"Don't you?"

"N—not for a while. I just never imagined you were…" he drifted off, and Conrad raked his hands through his hair.

"Never imagined I was what, Yuuri?"

"…so bored with me." He whispered. "I thought you loved me."

Conrad pulled at his own hair. Was he kidding? "Yuuri, how can you say that? Of course I love you—I have always and will always love you!" He was almost shouting. "I have tried my hardest not to push you, Yuuri. To show you in every possible way that I love you more than myself, but if you want me to feel guilty because I have chosen masturbation over trying to get you to touch me every five minutes then I'm not going to do it."

The boy gasped, surprised.

"I have turned my life upside down for you, Yuuri! I do the very best I can, every day, but nothing I seem to do is good enough. I'm close, sure, but not quite good enough. I don't complain when you change things around in here, even though it drives me crazy. I don't complain when you tease me at night, rubbing all over me, kissing all the spots that you know…you _KNOW_ turn me on, and then roll over with your "_Love you, Conrad_," and leave me hard and aching for the rest of the night. You stand over there and have the nerve to ask me if I love you, Yuuri? Maybe I ought to ask you if you love me!"

The Maou's black eyes flashed, something triggering inside of him, and instead of the younger man shrinking back in fear—which Conrad waited for with guilty expectation—he rounded on the soldier and gave him a push, just a small one, but Conrad still took a step back.

"Don't you ask me that! Don't you dare! I can't help it if I'm not perfect like you. I do the best that I can, Conrad, and just because I'm not suave and sophisticated doesn't mean that I'm not trying. Sorry if I'm not just casual about seeing you jacking off in the bath. I know I'm not a good lover, I never have been—just ask Wolfram."

Conrad sat down on the bed, his legs turning to jelly. Wolfram. _Wolfram_! How tired he was of his little brother controlling his relationship with Yuuri, even after all these weeks and the blonde boy's absence. "I swear to Shinou, Yuuri, if I never heard you mention Wolfram's name inside this chamber one more time, it would be too soon," he said, more frustrated than he had ever been. "Aren't I enough for you? Why are you hanging on to him, when I'm right here—right here loving you—_all the time_. Wolfram was never your lover, and if you actually sat down and thought about that, you might see that every time you bring him up, you just prolong your own pain. Stop letting him control you—_control us_. This is a small bedroom Yuuri, and I can't share it with you _AND_ Wolfram. One of us has to go, and I'm really hoping you kick him out and not me."

Conrad shot off the bed, finally at his wit's end, and harshly rearranged the items on his shelf, instead of the table.

"What the hell are you doing?" Yuuri asked, his face red.

"You do this all the time," Conrad muttered. "You rearrange the furniture without asking me. You move my things. And you never ask. You just do. I like order, Yuuri. I have a way I like things to be. And they belong in this order: rubber duck, baseball glove, baseball, writing pen, horse, and photo. Would you just stop this…this…moving." Conrad waved his hand in irritation. "Just pick one arrangement and be done with it."

"I can be done with it, all right," Yuuri snapped, glaring at the taller man. "Pardon me, your royal perfectness, for trying to make things a little nicer in here—for trying to be part of a couple. I'm going for a walk, and I'll be gone for a little while, so, if you want to continue your date with your hand, you don't have to worry about me intruding on your private time."

Then Yuuri pushed past Conrad, shoved him actually, not that he was able to move the tall man very much, but it was the first aggressive action he'd shown since Wolfram left. Conrad stared after him, not flinching when the heavy door slammed closed. The soldier looked down at his hand, he was still holding the photo—a particular type of portrait that Yuuri was able to create with technology from his world. It was a depiction of the Maou and his soldier, walking through the courtyard—Yuuri smiling and Conrad listening to attentively to whatever the happy, animated boy was saying. He remembered when that was taken, just shortly before Wolfram started to hurt Yuuri. _Wolfram, again_! Everything came back to his little brother.

If Conrad did throw the picture at the door, it was only after the king was long, long gone.

--O.o.O—

Yozak Gurrier was a man who depended on his own hands and wits to accomplish his work. Consequently, he insisted on taking care of his own gear. His duties threw him the path of danger with uncomfortable regularity, and because of that, he had learned that in order to be confident he needed to know that the tools of his trade were in top condition. That was why he did everything himself—packed his own bags, checked his own supplies, and cleaned his own saddle. After every mission, he spent a long time oiling and checking the leather—looking for any sign of weakness. After all, a broken stirrup could signal the end of his life if it cracked and split while he was making a speedy getaway. He had been working on his saddle for nearly an hour when he counted the fortieth sniffle coming from the hay mow above his head in barn loft. He knew who was up there, too. He was not the only one who sought out the warm, dim peace of the stable—the soft stamp and blow of the horses as they napped in the afternoon heat working to soothe both sadness and temper.

"Hey, Kiddo—you going to stay up there all day, or come down and talk about it?" He called out.

There was a moment of silence, the stillness out of place, then the sound of the hay shifting as the young Maou scrambled out of the straw and made his way down the ladder.

"How did you know it was me? I've been trying to be quiet since you came in."

Yozak took in the entire picture of the King with a single glance. His eyes were red, and puffy—having more to do with tears than any allergy to the hay. He looked stone miserable.

"I don't always show it, kiddo, but I usually know where you are. So, want to tell me what happened?"

"It's nothing," the boy said quietly, looking at his feet. "Just me being stupid again."

"Well, if you don't want to talk, would you like to give me a hand instead?"

Yuuri nodded, and Yozak handed him a soft cloth and the jar of leather conditioner. Then he showed him how to dip the cloth in the thick gel and rub circles into the saddle, moving with the grain of the leather.

"Conrad and I had another fight today," the young man said, as Yozak suspected he might. Sometimes it's easier to talk when one's hands are occupied.

"Have you been fighting a lot?"

"No, not at all. I was surprised this time, though. I got really angry."

"Did you? What happened?"

"It's embarrassing," the king sighed. "I walked into the bathroom, and Conrad was in the tub, and he was…well…he was…"

"Ah." Yozak said, keeping his eyes trained on the rag in his hand. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"Well, no. It was just a surprise. I mean, we're together, so I didn't think he would still…do that."

"And…are you _together_?"

The boy blushed so hotly, Yozak didn't need his whispered answer to know the answer to his question. _Why did he do this to himself_, he wondered. _Why did he leave himself open to this kind of torment?_ Counseling Yuuri on his sex life was not something Yozak relished…but the idea of instructing Yuuri with action and not words…well, that…would never happen no matter how much he might think about it. But he had a good idea that he knew exactly how the taichou was feeling right now. He straightened his shoulders and put his own wants aside, with a firm mental shove.

"So, what happened after that?" he asked.

"Well, I went back to our room, and Conrad followed me. Then we had an argument. I got so angry. I didn't think I would ever get angry with him, but what really makes me mad…is that he's right."

Yozak listened as Yuuri told him the details of the fight. A less honorable man might have offered Yuuri a shoulder to cry on, then used the information the boy unwittingly offered against the young man. Cursing his honor, just for a heartbeat, Yozak shook his head. It was time for straight talk with the Maou. Everyone had been walking on eggshells around the young man—and rightly so. But, this was case where he could say things that an acknowledged lover could not, even if his own affection for the king was every bit as strong, as devoted, as Conrad's.

"You're horny." Yozak said flatly, removing the saddle girth and moving to sit on a bench. He resumed his cleaning.

"W—what?" the boy squeaked, accompanied by the softest blush. _Charming_, Yozak thought. No wonder the Taichou was so jumpy lately.

"I said—"

"I heard what you said, but…no. You're wrong."

"Really? I don't think so. From what you're telling me, you spend your time playing with and petting the Captain. Nesting in your room. And, when you saw him today, you lost your temper. Tell me, what was your first reaction when you saw the Captain in the bath?"

Yozak knew his own reaction from times long past, and he was pretty sure the young king would feel the same.

"I was…I was turned on. And jealous, I think, too." He admitted in a hushed voice.

"And then you ran away, right? Got back to your room, and maybe caused an argument?"

The Maou nodded.

Yozak put his rag down and fixed the young king with a look. "It's perfectly ok, you know, to want the man you love. It's ok to touch him and it's ok to be happy. Conrad's absolutely right about one thing, kiddo—you're still letting Wolfram control everything you do. How long do you intend to punish yourself for something someone else did?"

"I…I…it's not like that."

"Isn't it?" Yozak smiled at the young man and jerked his head. The king came over and sat down beside him. Swallowing, Yozak forced himself to keep working on the saddle girth instead of putting his arm around Yuuri's shoulders.

"I still feel like it's my fault, though." Yuuri whispered. "It's like I can't forget what happened."

"Replace the memories."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if you remember what it was like when Wolfram…hurt you. Maybe you can try to replace those memories with better ones. Conrad loves you, Yuuri and he will only touch you out of that love. Why don't you let him help you build new memories to take the place of the old? Every time you think about Wolfram, replace the thought with a better one, something about Conrad. It may take time, but, it has to be better than what you're doing to yourself now."

"He's just so…perfect."

Yozak laughed then, long and loud. "Oh, kiddo—do you still think that? You're hopeless you know, truly hopeless." Yozak did, then, reach out one hand to hold Yuuri's. "Conrad is a strong man, it's true, but he has his faults. Perhaps it's more to his luck than his credit that you refuse to see them. Of course, that's how you are and one of the things I lo—like about you, too."

"What if I mess things up though? I mean, what if I do something wrong."

"He loves you, that makes it close to impossible to do the wrong thing. From what you've said, it sounds like the Taichou not wanting you isn't the problem."

"No," Yuuri whispered. "He does."

"Then will you make a proud man beg for the love he's earned? That's not very fair. You are just man, Yuuri—you always have been. You need to turn that great compassion of yours inward now. You need to forgive yourself and allow yourself to have the happiness that sits at your fingertips."

"What if it's too late? He was pretty angry this morning."

"Frustrated, Yuuri, not angry."

"What's the difference?"

"The difference, kiddo, should be obvious even to someone as naïve and sweet as yourself. He wants to love you with a man's love—and you're denying him what he needs most of all. Do you really know him so little? Conrad needs to be needed by you. He needs to know that he's the one you melt for. He needs to know that when you are afraid and worried that it's his love you turn to for comfort. Conrad has wanted you, the man you've become, for longer than even he probably knows, but that doesn't change who he is in essentials. He needs to know that his passion for you, his physical passion, Yuuri, is essential to you, and that his love makes your life better. Didn't you know he was that romantic?"

The boy's blush was so bright, Yozak was pretty sure he could read by it. "He writes wonderful love letters."

The spy nodded. He'd never received anything more than written orders from either Conrad or the King, but this was no time to wallow in his own regrets.

"And I bet he's tired of running a distant second to Wolfram, considering that he has been the one who's loved you as a gentle and honorable man for all this time."

"I really hadn't thought about it that way. I have been letting Wolfram control me, in more ways than just with Conrad. I want to be free of him."

"Then forgive yourself, Yuuri. I've said before and I'll say it as many times as you need to hear it. Forgive, and show just a little bit of the mercy that you have given to everyone else for so long to one person who really deserves it."

"Conrad."

Yozak gave up and leaned over to press a gentle kiss to the top of the King's head. He really was a wonderful, amazing soul. "No, Kiddo. Yourself. Give yourself permission to be happy, Yuuri. Give yourself permission to be whole again."

"It's…really ok, isn't it? To be happy?"

"Yeah," Yozak said, staring very hard at the bright square of light that illuminated the opening of the barn door. That way, he could tell himself that the stinging in his eyes had to do with the harsh sunlight and not the tears gathered there. "And no one in Shin Makoku has a right to be happier than you, Kiddo. You've been through a lot this year, and you've handled it with the same hope you always do. I…I want you to be happy, Yuuri. Everyone does. You should, too."

Yozak dropped the girth when the Maou hugged him suddenly. His arms circled loosely around the younger man, but he was careful not to pull him too close. Allowing himself one, last , very last moment of torture, the spy rested his cheek on the young man's head and gave in to the warmth that emanated from the beautiful soul that was Shibuya Yuuri.

"Thank you, Yozak. Second to Conrad, only, you're my best friend."

Ah, the sweet, vicious stab of irony. Yozak squeezed his eyes closed and felt his lips twist into a bitter smile—that the King couldn't see from his position against Yozak's chest. _Second to Conrad_…it was a place he'd come to know intimately.

"You're welcome, Yuuri. I am proud to be your friend."

The boy pulled out of his embrace—a tentative, shy smile tossed his way, then the king was gone. Yozak returned to his work, checking his saddle over and oiling the leather. He was a realist and knew his life would be spent in service to a man he both loved and admired without any hope of affection other than that man's friendship. Friendship, however, is love of a certain kind, and having a small part of the heart, even if it was just a tiny corner, of someone as special as Yuuri, well, that wasn't too bad.

--O.o.O—

Yuuri pondered the great mystery that was the man he loved as he walked through the castle grounds. His conversation with Yozak had awakened many thoughts in him, and feelings too. It was true, he admitted to himself, that he only allowed himself to get to a certain point in his physical explorations of the handsome soldier before he seemed to shut down on the inside. At first, there had been the awful memories—the sick feelings returning as his stomach heaved against the delicious feeling of desire he had for Conrad and somehow that desire mixed with the bad memories and it all caused him to just shut down.

Then, as time progressed, Yuuri began to hesitate for slightly different reasons. Every time he touched Conrad, and his knight began to caress him, and tease him with licks, nips and drugging kisses—Yuuri started to feel so good, better than he thought possible. He felt hot and languid and equally full of an immense energy. Then he would have a thought—this is for normal people, not people like him. If he had been himself, the way he was the year before, then maybe he could accept the situation better. But, inside, he still didn't feel like he deserved the joy—because it was more than happiness, _it was soul-deep joy_—Conrad's touch brought to him.

He tried to talk about, and Conrad merely nodded, listened and tried to love him. He wrote about it, and Conrad's replies were strong, reassuring, and somehow just not enough to make him believe that he, Yuuri, could ever really allow himself to be healed.

"Oh, Wolfram—what a mess we made, eh?" He said aloud, to no one, as he sat on the bench near the castle orchard—the place where he and Wolfram, in happier days, used to sit and talk. "I hope, wherever you are, that you're doing ok. I know it's silly, talking like this when you're not here, but, I think I just have to say it. I'm sorry Wolfram. I'm sorry I hurt you. And I really do forgive you for hurting me. But, I love Conrad, and I think I always have. Since you've been gone, I've still felt guilty for that, but I can't let you take this away from me—I won't let it happen. He means too much to me. I hope you are happy someday, Wolfram. I hope you find someone to love who loves you back as much as I love your brother. I'm ready to be happy now. I'm ready."

Yuuri closed his eyes, made a wish, and then found his feet. The long walk back to the castle seemed to take forever—he was anxious to see Conrad and that anticipation caused him to break into a run. _Enough._ He had spent enough time being afraid, enough time denying himself what he wanted and had hurt the one person he cared about the most. He wasn't so naïve as to believe he would never be frightened again, or that he was over the bad dreams, and the sometimes confusing reactions he had when something reminded him of Wolfram and he was caught off guard—those things would happen, he knew it. But, it was time to take a real step forward. Time to take his life back.

Conrad was seated behind his desk, in their office, when Yuuri found him. The look of resigned sadness in his knight's eyes nearly broke Yuuri's heart. How had he ever let the man he loved so much suffer?

"Yuuri, forgive me, please," Conrad said as he got up. "I never should have said those things. I was just—"

"Frustrated?" Yuuri interrupted.

The tall man's shoulders slumped a little. "Yes. But that is no excuse. I know very well what you've been through and I shouldn't have lost my temper. I promised you better than that, and I'm so, so very—"

Yuuri cut off Conrad's apology with a kiss, climbing into the man's arms and sealing his lips over Conrad's still moving mouth. The feeling of his tall handsome soldier's arms around him made Yuuri sigh into the kiss. He knew these arms would never drop him, never harm him, and everything he needed to be happy, to be content, was right here. It took Conrad a moment to recover himself it seemed, but then Yuuri was rewarded with his lover's passionate kisses. He loved these kisses, gentle, yes, but still laced with a hunger that gave him a strange feeling in his belly—and instead of calling it fear, he named it for what it truly way—desire. After what seemed an eternity that was far too short a time, Conrad began to pull away, to disengage from Yuuri's mouth and arms.

"No," he whispered, pushing closer to the taller man, hopping up to wrap his legs around Conrad's waist—not consciously trying to be sexy but trying to prevent the loss of contact. "Please don't go, don't stop, Conrad. I…I want…more."

He knew he was blushing brighter than fireflames, and he buried his face in Conrad's neck to hide his embarrassment, but pressed shy kisses to his soldier's skin. The other man's gasp made Yuuri shiver, a motion of anticipation, not fear. He remembered that Conrad's neck was particularly sensitive, so he bit lightly on the pulse point just under Conrad's ear. Before he could register the movement, Yuuri found his back pressed against the wall of the office, so that he was sandwiched between the broad chest of the man he loved and the stone wall. Conrad's hands gripped the back of his thighs, just beneath his butt. His heart pounded in his chest and he had…no idea what to do next.

Happily, Conrad came to his rescue, shifting Yuuri's weight into one of his arms, using his strength and leverage to hold the young man and using his now free hand to stroke Yuuri's hair.

"Yuuri," Conrad said, half groan, half sigh—the sexiest sound the Maou had ever heard. "Do you…want to stop?"

"No!"

Conrad carried him, then, back to his desk—the soldier's certainly much neater than Yuuri's own. He set the king down on the desk, still leaning close, and recaptured Yuuri's lips with his own. This kiss was nothing like the others Yuuri had known, and he'd kissed Conrad Weller a lot. This kiss was full of tender, loving passion and a promise that Yuuri couldn't deny.

"I never want to fight with you, darling," Conrad whispered against his lips. "I love you so much, Yuuri—so, so much."

"I love you, too, Conrad," Yuuri answered, reaching up with trembling hands to tug at the buttons on Conrad's uniform jacket. "We're going to fight, I know, but I know you'll never leave me. Right?"

"Never," the tall man promised, still nibbling Yuuri's lips, and raising his hands to cover the younger man's slim fingers, assisting the Maou with the buttons.

Then, something snapped in both of the men, it seemed, because the speed with which they divested each other of their clothes astounded Yuuri. Before he could really process it, he was pressed skin-to-skin with the man he loved. Conrad's hands seemed to be everywhere at once, yet moved with a slowness that made Yuuri squirm with need. The soldier lifted him in his arms and brought him to his large desk chair. Conrad settled Yuuri into his lap, and then a sense of warm happiness bloomed in the maou's chest. This was so different from anything he had ever known, or imagined. Conrad's whispered endearments, encouragements, and soft vows brought tears to Yuuri's eyes. Conrad kissed each one.

"Take your time, Yuuri," the older man whispered. "I love you no matter what, and you don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

Feeling strangely shy, Yuuri snuggled close to Conrad and pressed little kisses to his chest. He slipped his hand between them and tentatively touched his soldier's hard member. The sound Conrad made in his throat made Yuuri smiled. It was meant to be like this, he thought, feeling so much in love that he couldn't believe it had taken him so long to do this. Conrad took over then, sensing Yuuri's shy nervousness. He banked the embers of Yuuri's passionate fire, then brought his senses ablaze when the king felt Conrad's bold touch on that part of himself he could barely touch without blushing. Was this really what it was supposed to be like? Yuuri realized that everything he'd felt before, every idea he had about sex and love-making was just…wrong. This was what he'd wanted, and the man holding him was the only person he ever wanted to touch him like this for the rest of his life.

There were moments, a brush of skin perhaps, or a light nip that would remind Yuuri of Wolfram and the pain would try to surge back into his mind, but he concentrated on a simple mantra—This was Conrad, not Wolfram. And Conrad loved him, would never hurt him. So, through fits and starts, first hesitating, then hurried and desperate the two men became lovers, in every sense of the word. Conrad's hands and mouth coaxed feelings from the young Maou that he didn't know he had. Every time he heard the strong soldier whisper his love, his devotion—every time he called Yuuri beautiful—the younger man felt a little more of his reticence slip away and he came to trust in the heartfelt words of the man who meant more to him than anyone in the world.

Yuuri had been penetrated before, roughly and with little preparation. He was prepared for the burning and the pain, the uncomfortable sense of fullness, and the harsh rasp of skin tearing at skin, but what he wasn't prepared for was the fact that it didn't have to be that way. Conrad had teased them both, bringing Yuuri so close to his own climax that he could see a veil of stars before his eyes, then backing him off so that he was left panting and shaking. Wolfram hadn't taken the time to open him gently, to ease the passage into sex, but Conrad had produced, from a desk drawer Yuuri thought, a bottle of slippery liquid that not only made his hands slide in the most tantalizing fashion against Yuuri's skin, but also seemed to warm him, maybe even numb his most private opening so that the pain when his soldier finally joined them together was nearly non-existant.

"Are you ok, Yuuri," the man had breathed into his ear, holding Yuuri tight to his chest. Yuuri legs were straddling Conrad's hips, and they were seamed together, lips and bodies, until Yuuri wasn't sure where he ended and Conrad began.

"I…I…Yes, please, Conrad. Don't stop."

Yuuri was staring into Conrad's half-lidded, smoky eyes when he felt the tall man shift his hips beneath him. The sensation dragged a moan from deep within Yuuri's center somewhere. It felt so very, very good. There was a pause, and then Conrad repeated the motion, and Yuuri felt tingles all the way to his toes. Anxious to move, to do something, to give his lover the same delicious feeling, Yuuri shifted his own hips, experimentally, and was rewarded with a sharp gasp and light moan from the man he loved. And in this way, each moving with the other's pleasure in mind, Yuuri felt himself hurtling forward toward something he couldn't really name. He knew what an orgasm was, knew what the coiling in his belly meant, understood the way he was breathing and recognized the same symptoms in Conrad, but before, when he'd climaxed is was always as though he was reaching a peak, then throwing himself off. It was different, it seemed, in this too. Now he felt like he was falling into Conrad, sinking into him, becoming a single person, a new person—with the same tension and desire. He could feel the sweat on Conrad's skin, loved the way the tall man bit his lip and groaned, and all he wanted was to wrest that last gift from his love—he was suddenly greedy and wanted to feel Conrad shake beneath him, spent and exhausted. Yuuri moved a little faster, loving the sensation of Conrad's fingers digging into his hips, helping him find the right pace. Then Conrad started…growling and calling his name, almost begging him to go on, to make it happen, not to stop, and when Yuuri felt the man he loved catch and hold his breath—then shatter as he reached his climax, the young king melted, too—dissolved in an orgasm that robbed him of both breath and vision.

"Yuuri…Yuuri-darling?" Conrad's voice seemed far away and Yuuri had no idea how much time had passed, he was still disconnected from his rational mind. "Yuuri, are you all right? Did I hurt you, love? You're crying."

Yuuri sniffed and lifted his head, shaking it a little bit. Conrad was right, he was crying. "I'm not hurt, Conrad. I…I don't know why I'm crying. I think that I'm just so…happy."

"You…you're happy?" The older man seemed relieved, but a little skeptical.

"I never knew," Yuuri said, curling back into Conrad's embrace. "I never knew it could be like this. I never knew I could feel like this. Thank you. Thank you, Conrad. I need you so much."

Conrad's kiss was tender, gentle—and expressed everything that Yuuri loved about his man. "I love you, Yuuri—and I always will. This is just a part of the way I love you."

"Yeah, but…wow, Conrad. I mean, really, wow."

"Are you a little sleepy, darling?"

Yuuri nodded against the strong man's shoulder.

"Then close your eyes, Yuuri. I'm right here, my arms are around you and you are safe. You have a little rest now."

"Love you, Conrad." Yuuri murmured.

"Love you, too."

--O.o.O—

Of all the duties Gunter Von Kleist performed during the course of the day, his most pleasurable involved his Heika in some way. He prided himself on his relationship with the young Maou, and spent a great deal of time devoted to discovering the small details that pleased his king. The young man was beautiful, everyone knew that, but his gentle, sweet nature made serving him a delight, not a chore. When the king first came to Shin Maokoku, it didn't take Gunter long to know that the young man like a small afternoon snack at his desk—if he was working. Further inquiry and a little sleuthing had revealed that the King liked hot tea and bite-sized fruit tarts. So, at least twice a week, Gunter came to the Maou's office with a tea tray and most times, to his blushing delight, the Maou invited him to take tea with him. During those dark months when the Maou was hiding his private pain, he rarely had tea with Gunter, but that little ritual was just one of the former habits of the Maou that was returning to normal.

As Gunter wheeled the tea tray through the corridors leading from the kitchen to the King's office, he slowed his steps. He wouldn't ever be able to explain how he understood the castle itself, heard whispers from the very stones, but he knew just as he knew that Gwendal would need a backrub tonight, after he found out about this most recent turn of events, that it would not do to arrive at Heika's office too quickly. The castle walls seemed to hum in relief and happiness, reflecting the contentment felt by the building's most principle inhabitant. Almost as undercurrent, the king's gentleman had released an aura of strong protectiveness. Anyone foolish enough to pull Weller-kyo from his present state of fierce satisfaction might just find himself looking down the business-end of a sword.

So, Gunter wasted as much time as he could until the tea was completely cold. When he stopped outside the door of the royal office, he rested his hand on the teapot and released a tiny burst of mayoku from his palm to heat the king's favorite beverage.

"I know you're not perfect, Conrad," he overhead the king say—perhaps he was listening a little more attentively than he should have been, his maryoku also amplifying the conversation. "I never asked you to be perfect—what I'm saying is that I love you, just as you are, the man you are. So, if I call you perfect, then I just mean that in my eyes, regardless of flaws, you will always be perfect. I love you and will always see you that way."

"I worry about letting you down, Yuuri." The soldier's voice was slightly husky.

"Um. It was you I just spent the last two hours with, right?"

A soft laugh. "Yes, that was most definitely me."

"Well, if that's how you apologize for letting me down, please do it more often!"

The sudden silence and the increased pulse of the castle air caused Gunter to move quickly. He knocked before the king and his gentleman became too involved to answer. In response to his knock, he heard some sighing, some scuffling, then a quiet, "Come in," from Yuuri-heika.

Gunter had developed over the long years of being in service to Shin Makoku's rulers, the ability to notice very little. For example, as he greeted Conrad and Yuuri-heika, he didn't comment on the king's flushed face, his swollen lips, or his mussed hair. As he handed Conrad a cup of tea, he only flicked his eyes to the buttons of Conrad's jacket, enough to alert the soldier that he'd mis-buttoned the garment.

The thick tension that had grown between the two men had dissipated like the morning fog after the sun's arrival warms the earth. Left in its place was a simple note of harmony, not audible, certainly, to anyone else in the castle but the beautiful adjutant. He smiled to himself, stirring his tea, and carrying his share of a collegial conversation, while his private thoughts took a happier turn. The Maou was happy, he could feel it, the way that he used to. It seemed that Gunter's special connection to the king had returned along with the young man's smile. And that meant, next only to Gwendal, the world to him.

Everything might just turn out for the best, after all.

* * *

_And now we really are charging toward the end, my friends. I felt all right about this chapter, but I am interested in what you think about it. I feel bad, as usual, for tormenting Yozak…and if he were here, he'd bitchslap me for the next chapter probably, but, he's been a wonderful character to write. This story's conclusion, I hope, when I write it will remain true to the rest of the work. I know how it will end in a vague sort of sense, but I haven't written it yet, so we will have to see. As ever, I am so honored that so many of you have read this story, and very kindly went further still and made it a favorite. I don't even know what to write concerning that, but, truly, I blush more than Yuuri. You're awesome readers, and I want to thank you for giving me a chance! See you in Chapter 9--SN_


	9. Chapter 9

_Well, dear readers…here we are at the end. There will be an epilogue…as I really cannot leave Yozak where he stands right now. I suspect you all know what finally brings the Maou back, so to speak, but in case you don't—the full explanation takes place in the Epilogue. For now, though, here is chapter nine. I am actually a bit sad that this story is complete now—but I'm happy that so many of you have stayed with me through this conclusion. I cannot write in words that truly reflect what it means to know that you have been reading and caring about the characters in the same way that I have. It's been a pleasure writing this story and corresponding with you all. Thank you, from the depth of my heart. Thank you very very much. To recap: I don't own KKM, but if I did…I'd share. See you at the bottom of the page..._

* * *

**Chapter Nine: The Return of the Maou**

The long, lingering days of summer fled Shin Makoku when autumn came to nip at their heels—turning the evenings crisp, at first, and it seemed like no time at all had passed before Yuuri woke to find the small window in his room—his and Conrad's—frosted with the tiny skeletons of single snowflakes. _Yes_, he thought, staring outside, his hand on the pane, _summer had come and gone and autumn and winter in their turn_. The warm season had left him a gift, however, in the shape of the man sleeping in the bed across the room. Yuuri thought there was nothing more handsome than the face of the man he loved in repose. When Conrad slept, the cares of his heart, the concerns of the stalwart soldier, melted away, leaving peaceful, relaxed features. And, if Yuuri had loved his summer-time soldier, with his blazing passion, then he adored his autumn lover. He loved the long mornings spent in bed, slowly making love while the fire chased away the chill of the air. He loved to curl against Conrad's side, while they read by candle light when the sun began its descent earlier and earlier in the day. And just when he thought he could not love him more, winter came and brought out a Conrad that Yuuri fell in love with all over again. The freezing temperatures brought sleigh rides and snowball fights, and hours spent in hot baths, and on warm rugs in front of blazing fires. There were long treks, on horseback, with nothing but the subdued silence of the snow muffling every sound, the mist of breath from the horses' nostrils, and the look of his lover, his brown hair sharply contrasted against the white backdrop—and the expression in his eyes of hot desire.

These seasons of Conrad, as Yuuri liked to think of them, were punctuated, as they must be, by conflicts and adventures. There were the bandits that raided the small mountain villages in the autumn—they required capture. There had been the usual diplomatic posturing between countries that, even though they were firm allies of Shin Makoku, seemed to think that peace was something to be trifled with on a regular basis. There were the inevitable injuries inflicted on both Gunter and Gwendal by Anissina and her myriad inventions. There were, too, the endless social events and details of just being the Maou that required his attention. Through it all, however, Yuuri found his happiness. In time, his nightmares became fewer and the length between their visits increased. With time, too, he had learned of Cheri-sama and Greta's adventures by way of his daughter's brilliant, detail-filled letters home. Receiving the mail, therefore, had become his favorite morning ritual—right behind waking Conrad with long kisses.

And now, with Spring just around the corner, the snow having retreated to ring the bases of the trees alone, Yuuri found himself…content. He was musing on what he would write to Conrad that day—having read his handsome lover's letter already and realizing that they were in need of a new journal, having filled the sixth volume since the tradition began—when he passed by the armory. He saw no point, now, in having a new chamber re-fit for himself since he'd worked out with Conrad exactly how their bedroom should be set up. So, he often passed soldiers in the hall as he strolled back toward his own room, and he was used to voices coming from the armory. He pinched his nose, holding in a sneeze, and smiled to himself—maybe Conrad was still in bed, and this errand he was running to get his favorite pen (the twin of which was in his desk drawer) could yield some…passionate results.

"Look, I'm not saying there's anything wrong with it. I'm just saying that he'll get tired of him eventually, and then things will go back to normal." A soldier said, as Yuuri passed.

The king wouldn't have thought about the words at all if it weren't for the reply of a different voice.

"I wouldn't let the Captain hear you say that. He might be cruising toward a broken heart, but he, at least, is in love. He won't hear a word against the Maou. Besides, I think they are a strong couple. I don't think you're right."

"My only point is that if the king were serious about Weller-kyo, he would have done something about it by now. But, you know how nobles are, they like to get their feet wet with a common man once in a while—a bit of rough 'til they marry one of their own—and then it's the dirty boy on the side."

There was a resigned sort of laughter from several voices at once. Yuuri slumped against the far wall—all thoughts of romance gone.

"Yuuri-Heika has never acted like that. He's not like the rest of them."

"Even _if_ he does love the captain, and that's a big _if_…it won't matter. He's the Maou. He'll choose someone more appropriate—better breeding, not some half-breed mongrel, even if Cheri-sama's his mother—hell, _my_ pedigree is stronger than the Taichou's."

"Well, it's true that he hangs around here. I guess if he wanted the captain for more than a hot fuck, he'd have moved him into the Royal family wing by now."

"Yeah, see? I told you I was right."

"Right, two weeks salary says Yuuri-heika dumps the captain by midsummer." A voice rang out.

Then Yuuri endured the shame of listening to a group of his own soldiers wager, with great spirit, on how long it would take him to jilt Conrad and choose someone with a socially acceptable title and estate. Turning on his heel, fighting tears, Yuuri walked in the opposite direction to his room. Suddenly the peace he felt in that place, that small chamber that had become his sanctuary in these last months, was gone. _Just gone_.

He wandered the halls until he heard a voice call out softly.

"Heika—are you all right?"

He glanced over and realized he was in the royal wing, in front of Gwendal's room, and it was Gunter's voice calling to him.

"I'm ok, Gunter—thanks."

There was a pause, then Gwendal's slightly stuffy voice. "Heika, Come in, the door's open."

Yuuri took a deep breath and opened the door. It was still early, that was true, but he was surprised to see both of his advisors still in bed. Gwendal, the strongest full-demon he knew, had a cold. He knew that the general suffered this one small period of weakness every spring, but there was a tacit agreement amongst the castle inhabitants that Lord Von Voltaire's seasonal allergies were simply not discussed.

"How are you feeling, Gwendal?" he asked, politely.

"I'm fine," the dour man said, looking anything but well.

"He is much the same as yesterday, Heika," Gunter said, smiling at Gwendal's frown. "And thank you for that hot drink you sent last night. He slept better, as you thought he might."

"My mother used to make hot toddies for my father whenever he had a cold, so, I thought it might be of some use."

"The scotch was nice," Gwendal said grudgingly.

"But, as kind as your inquiries are, Heika, I think there is something else on your mind."

Yuuri began to pace. He opened his mouth to speak, paused, then paced again.

"Yuuri—you're making me dizzy." Gwendal said, then coughed.

"Sorry, Gwendal." Yuuri stopped, standing beside the bed.

Gunter reached out and took his hand, pressing his fingers gently. "We are here to help you, Heika, no matter the circumstances. Won't you tell us what's wrong?"

"I want to know if everyone in the castle thinks I'm just using Conrad for sex." He blurted out.

Gunter's eyebrow arched to the root of his hair. "Well, I can think of at least several people—two of whom are in this room with you—who know better. Why? What's happened, Heika?"

Yuuri explained what he overheard from the soldiers in the armory. Then he crossed his arms and waited for Gunter to explain that he'd simply misunderstood. He wanted reassurance, and…maybe even a little bit of permission from the two men he respected. But, the drawn frown on Gwendal's face and Gunter's look of sympathetic sadness made him pause.

"Oh my god," he cried. "It's true, isn't it? People think I'm just having an affair with him until…until…well, until something better comes along? That's disgusting. Gwendal, something needs to be done about this—"

"The castle gambling ring never bothered you before, Yuuri," Gwendal replied as he dragged himself up, slowly, to sit against the headboard. "People talk. About everything. You can't let it bother you."

Gunter fluffed his lover's pillows while nodding in agreement. "Heika, have you not ever speculated about the private affairs of someone famous from your world?"

"Well, sure," Yuuri muttered, running a hand through his hair. "But, well, I just hate the thought of people talking like that about Conrad. I don't care so much for myself, but Conrad? He's so wonderful, and how could anyone ever think I'd…toy with him?"

Gwendal sneezed, violently, and Yuuri reached into his pocket, took out his handkerchief, and handed it to his general.

"Thank you, Yuuri," he said. "I know you love Conrad. Gunter knows. Most importantly, Conrad knows. However, it won't stop people from talking, all things considered…history bears out their opinion, after all."

"What…what do you mean?"

"Gunter, you explain," Gwendal said, waving his hand toward Yuuri's adjutant and slumping back against his pillows. "So tired," the general muttered.

"Heika," Gunter said, as he straightened the covers around Gwendal's waist. "You were not raised here, and that is sometimes a beautiful thing. You have not been touched by the peculiar prejudices that haunt most of us from this country. I'm sure you remember how it was when you first arrived—how even we were aghast at your desire to make peace with humans? And, of course, your time here has shown you what generally has been the fate of those whom are of mixed parentage. Bi-racial children, human and mazoku, are still frowned upon by most people. It does not matter who the child is—even if that child is the product of the love between a demon queen and a human hero. Shinou himself sanctioned the relationship between Cheri-sama and Dan Hiri Weller, and while no one understood it at the time, it is clear that there had to be a Conrad so that there could be a Yuuri-Heika, and without Conrad, we would never have had you. But, just because there is that truth—that Conrad's very existence is vital, many people would still be outraged if you were ever to marry him—and would probably try to prevent such a union. He is of…and you will forgive my saying this for I do not, nor have I ever believed in this term…_polluted parentage_."

"P—Polluted parentage…?" Yuuri felt sick to his stomach. "That's disgusting! I've never heard of anything so offensive. Conrad has done more for this country than anyone I know, well, you two excepted, of course. He has proven himself over and over again. He's loving, loyal, honest, true, and handsome, and virile, and beautiful, and—"

"Yuuri, please." Gwendal said irritably. "I don't want to think about my little brother as virile."

"Sorry, Gwendal." Yuuri raked his hands through his hair again. "Does Conrad know this…I mean, of course he knows it, he grew up here…but does he know about the part where people might revolt if we were married?"

"Of course he knows, Yuuri. But, he loves you anyway," Gwendal said, closing his eyes. "He loves you so much that his own reputation means nothing to him in comparison. In our society, the best Conrad can hope for is to be your lover, for as long as you will have him, and when you marry, he will step aside."

"He…you're sure?" Yuuri felt the tears slide down his cheeks. "You're sure? But how could he do that?"

Gwendal nudged Gunter with his elbow, and the beautiful man moved closer to the edge of the large bed. Then, Gwendal patted the open space between them, not opening his eyes, and Gunter held out his arms. Yuuri put his arms around Gunter's shoulders and found himself lifted as though he weighed nothing—he was continually amazed by how very strong the deceptively feminine-looking man was—then he was snuggled between his two closest advisors. He put his head on Gunter's shoulder, and the lavender-haired man held him close. Gwendal sneezed again, sighed, then put his arm around Gunter's shoulders, drawing both men close to his side.

"When he was a child, when our parents were away, Conrad sneaked out of the palace grounds and into the nearby village. He was only a very small boy at the time." Gwendal's voice was rough from coughing. "I was responsible for watching after him, though I was not much older. Still, I was capable of monitoring a small child. When I discovered he was gone, I went to look for him. I found him, in the town square, surrounded by a few older Mazoku boys. They were taunting him, and every so often pushing or hitting him. I can still see the look on his face—the shock and bewildered confusion. He had never been outside the protection of our parents, or our tutors—and no one, either human or Mazoku cared to cross Dan Hiri Weller. Well, except for me. Anyway, they called him names he'd never heard before—_half-breed, traitor, blood-killer, humongrel_—things like that, though those were the polite terms. They said other things, too. Then, one of them hit him in the jaw with a rock—you've probably seen the tiny scar by his left ear? Well, that was a gash when he was just a little boy. Then they started chanting, "_better off dead, better off dead_," and closing in on him."

"Gwendal," Gunter said softly, over Yuuri's head, "You don't have to tell this story."

Yuuri agreed, he really didn't want to hear anymore. The part he'd already heard was too horrible to contemplate.

"No, I think Yuuri should know," Gwendal said, coughing again and pulling both men down with him as he slid lower in the bed a bit. "Forgive me, Yuuri, it hurts to sit up for too long. Anyway, so, these boys were going to hurt him, and for just a moment, a split second really, I wanted to let them. I hated his father so much, then. I hated that my mother was with him. And for that brief moment, I hated my little brother, too, because a part of me agreed with those boys—races shouldn't mix. _Humans are humans and Demons are demons_. That was what I believed. So, when one of them picked Conrad up and tossed him against the tree in the center of the town square, I realized what was really happening, and I tried to use my maryoku to stop them. But, I couldn't—it was gone. I didn't know why, but I didn't have time to question it, I had to save my little brother. So, I fought the boys off with my fists, grabbed Conrad, and ran home. He had a broken arm and that gash."

"Oh, Gwendal!" Yuuri gasped out, his heart breaking for both his general and his lover. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry. You must have felt terrible."

The general shook his head. "At first, I was angry and blamed everyone else for the loss of my maryoku—especially Conrad. But, that was really because I felt so ashamed of my own actions. He never blamed me though. But, for months after, when he would go to bed, he would cry. And when I asked him about it, he asked me—_Gwen, do you hate me like those other boys_? Then he said—_It's ok if you do, Gwen. I know there's something wrong with me. I have bad blood. Everybody says so_. And I vowed right then that no matter how much I might hate his father, I would never again fail my little brother and I would always protect him. After that I met Anissina, and she taught me to knit, I started to try and find peace through the movements of my hands. Later, when I met Gunter, at school, he taught me that honor is something you can work for—something you can lose but get back again if you can atone for earlier actions. You can make it a part of yourself. Gunter loved me enough to help me get my maryoku back, but it wasn't easy, and I still—even now—remember what it took. I could not have done it without him."

"I love you, Gwen," Gunter said, and Yuuri could actually feel his adjutant blushing.

"I love you, too, Gunter," the general sighed, a sort of exhaustion creeping into his voice. Yuuri thought he might fall asleep, since it was clear the illness was catching up with him, but the man continued.

"So, you see, Heika—_Yuuri_—the prejudices of this world are not going to go away over night. I support every effort you have made, and I know that you will continue to work hard, but, you can't change the stone-hearted. And you can't change what Conrad himself believes to be true. Some part of him has simply accepted the vile thoughts of others and tries to move beyond it."

"I can't believe he went through so much!" Yuuri felt ashamed of himself and wasn't even sure why. "And…because of all that, you think he really believes I would…that I would…turn away from him?"

"Eventually he knows you must. Every Maou must have a mate, Heika."

"Gwendal, don't be so harsh," Gunter said softly. "Forgive him, Heika. He knows just as I do that you love Conrad."

"Of course I love Conrad. I can't imagine my life with anyone else. And I don't want to!"

"Yuuri," Gwendal said, his voice drifting toward sleep. "No one says you have to, just think long and hard about what you're saying. Conrad knows what a relationship with him might cost you—you should consider the same. Now, stay and cuddle if you can be quiet, or leave and chatter—either way, I need a rest."

"Such a cranky old bear," Gunter whispered affectionately as both men turned toward the Maou and hugged him. "He's like this when he's ill, Heika. But, why don't you rest with us for a little while. Conrad has been detained by a company of fresh recruits, and you'll be safe here with us for a little while—you can be yourself."

Yuuri sniffed and tried to wipe his eyes dry, but the tears just kept coming out. What had happened to him seemed almost…small in comparison to the kind of life Conrad had lead and obviously kept secret from most people. He knew that his knight wasn't keeping anything from him intentionally—this wasn't a secret—but it was one of the many aspects of his life that he just accepted as the way things were.

Long ago, Conrad had promised him to always stay by his side. To always protect him. And when Yuuri came to Shin Makoku he became, albeit unintentionally at first, a champion of justice and peace. Now, however, he had something to hold onto that was real. He would never forget the story Gwendal told, never forget what his lover must have endured simply because of his ancestry. No, now Yuuri had someone to protect, a man for whom he would, without any second thought, change the world. He refused to accept a society where honorable, wonderful men like Conrad were rated as second-class citizens because their parents were of differing races. He refused to accept the prejudice and the politics. No. He would protect Conrad, and any children other half-human, half-mazoku children from the same kind of ignorance with which Conrad had been raised. Yuuri closed his eyes, feeling strangely tired, but still a little keyed up. The shock of the morning still bothered him. He'd close his eyes for a few minutes, then go and find Conrad.

--O.o.O—

"Ah, there you are, Kiddo. I've been looking for you." Yozak said, by way of an announcement as he approached the young Maou. The boy was walking across the courtyard, looking just a little rumpled in the late morning sunshine.

"Oh, Hi," the king said, with half a smile. "What can I do for you, Yozak?"

"You ok, Yuuri?" Yozak pressed his hand against the Maou's forehead, and studied him carefully. He looked a little pale, and his eyes were darker even than usual, as though he'd been crying again.

"I don't know. I feel a little weird, but I did spend some time with Gwendal, I might be getting his…well, you know, that thing we don't talk about."

"Ah!" Yozak said, laughing. "It is that time of year, isn't it?"

His companion nodded, and Yozak fell into step alongside the younger man, content to let him choose their path. When he thought the time was right, he held a letter, balancing it between his first and second fingers. "This came for you this morning, Heika. I thought I'd bring it to you myself."

Yuuri took the letter from Yozak's hand, looked at it, then frowned. "It's…It's from Wolfram."

The spy nodded, and lifted a hand to steady to the small of the king's back to steady him. "There's a bench, kiddo. Let's sit down. Or, would you like me to give you some privacy."

"No," Yuuri whispered, still staring at the envelope, but reaching over and grasping Yozak's hand, clutching his fingers like a lifeline. "I…I want to read this before I tell Conrad, but, I don't want to be alone."

"I was thinking you might feel that way. Don't worry, Yuuri. Whatever he's said—it's just words on a page and he can't hurt you now. I'd never let him near you again." Yozak swallowed hard and guided his Maou to the bench where the boy sat down and opened the parchment with trembling fingers.

His eyes darted back and forth, then he seemed to take a deep breath and read the words over again. When he was finished, he handed the paper to Yozak.

"Read it."

The older man nodded and started to read.

_Greetings, Yuuri-Heika,_

_I realize these are not welcome words, but I have hope that you will read them all the same. First, I would like to thank you for allowing me contact with our daughter. It has been almost a year since I have been in Shin Makoku, and I have no immediate plans to return, but in that time I have had many letters from Greta and from my mother, as well. Greta tells me she believes me to be on a quest of honor. I should thank you for that. You certainly could have told a much different story._

_I have heard that you are well—your reputation has spread throughout the world, it would seem, since there is no where that I can go where I do not hear your name. You will, I hope, pardon me, if I admit that is sometimes a very difficult burden to bear. My banishment from Shin Makoku has made me a pariah amongst the Mazoku who live in other countries. The humans are not much better, but I have found a village where I am now staying more or less full time._

_Even though I am no longer a soldier of Shin Makoku, I do have information for you. I have heard that there is a small militia forming in Dai Shimaron. It would seem that they have a thought to take the mountain lands of Francshire. I am not, in my current state, able to check on the validity of this rumor, but I am certain you will be able to send someone to check it out. The information comes from someone we both know—Adelbert—and I have no doubt of his sincerity._

_I will not take up your time with a recounting of my travels during the time I have been gone, and I am not asking for your forgiveness. I did hurt you. I know that. And I'm sorry. I still disagree with a lot of what you've said and done, but, that was no excuse for my actions. Being away from Blood Pledge Castle is good for me, and I have no doubt my absence is good for all of you. I would, however, like to see Greta this year. If you are amenable, it would be nice if we could work out an agreement by which she could come to visit me. Please contact me if you open to that possibility._

_I hope to hear from you,_

_Wolfram Von Bielefeld_

Yozak handed the letter back to Yuuri and held his tongue. There was nothing on the surface that was immediately identifiable as…bad, but, it was clear that the royal brat still hadn't fully accepted his role in what happened the year before.

"It's a start," Yuuri said, with finality. "It may not be much, but it _is_ a start."

"If you say so, Kiddo." Yozak's smiled and ruffled the young king's hair. He loved Yuuri for his ability to accept everyone so easily, but it only strengthened his resolve to keep his king from the danger that sweet nature would inevitably bring.

"Yozak, did you have something you wanted to say to me? You seem preoccupied."

The tall man scratched his head. Of course he had something to say to the boy! He always had something to say to the boy…something along the lines of…_Hey, kiddo, I know you're in love with my best friend, but the thing is, I just can't get you out of my mind, and I was thinking, you know, if you were interested, that maybe I could just put you on the back of my horse and take you away from all this? It won't be much of a life or anything, and Conrad would no doubt hunt me down and kill me, but, I'd love you for as long as I was alive, because I can't sleep for thinking about you and I can't eat for wondering if you're ok, and every time I see you my heart goes crazy, and when I don't see you it's even worse…so, you know, how about it—up for an elopement?_

Before he could answer, the sounds of a scuffle on the other side of the stable drew his attention. "Wait here, heika," he said, automatically, already moving toward the sound.

"No way," the Maou said, sprinting past him at a dead run. "That's Conrad's sword. I know the sound of it."

Yozak shook his head and ran, easily catching up to the king. "I didn't know his sword had a sound."

"Course it does," the king panted. "Your sword has a deep ring, strong and manly—his is higher pitched, sharper. His sword is not as heavy as yours."

Yozak skidded to a halt as they rounded the corner of the stable, swinging his arm to easily catch the Maou as the boy started to dart past. Too many years spent assessing dangerous situations let the spy know that there was not conflagration here. It was just harmless sport, a little swordplay between a captain and his subordinates. There were at least twenty soldiers gathered there, and the captain.

"Don't worry, Yuuri," he whispered. "Conrad's not in trouble."

"But…what are they doing?"

Yozak grinned, and tried to explain how young soldiers liked to sometimes test the skill of their commanders. How did you explain that though, to a young man who was the embodiment of the top of the heap—Yuuri was the pinnacle of society—no one surpassed him. So, how could he really understand that these young men were never in doubt that their captain would easily defeat them, but that they were vying for their place on the food chain just below him?

"Oh," the boy said, turning his charming smile onto Yozak and making the handsome spy's stomach feel a little light. "They're trying to figure out who's on the varsity team, right? You know, first string players as opposed to bench warmers?"

"Sure," Yozak said, his eyes focused on Yuuri's smiling mouth. He had no idea what the boy was talking about, but, it was impossible to concentrate when the Maou was smiling like that. "Just like that, Kiddo."

When Yuuri turned back to watch the soldiers spar with Conrad, Yozak was able to bring his thundering heart back under control. It was strange, really, the way he was doing just fine—talking to the kid about anything at all, then _bang! _ Just like a runaway horse, his heart started going, he turned stupid, and all he could think about what how much he wanted to hold the young king. He was disgusted with himself—continuing to have such thoughts about his best friend's lover, much less his king, was just wrong. It was wrong, and he knew it. He shook his head to clear it. One day he would master his emotions—but it wasn't going to be today.

"You know, Yuuri…I really am glad I know you. Conrad was never like this before you came. You make him really happy. You make us all happy."

_Shut up, Yozak_, he hissed at himself. _Shut up! Shut up!_

"You really think so?" the black-haired boy asked, smiling again. "I hope so."

A shout caught his attention. Conrad had disarmed the six men he'd been sparring with, and the good natured ribbing was beginning.

"Ah, C'mon Taichou! Don't be like that--give us a chance!"

"Sorry," Conrad said, smiling at Yuuri—that special smile he held only for the king. "I've played with you enough for one day. You should go practice with the children. I think you might stand a slightly better chance against the cook's son. He's five."

Yozak stood on the slight rise, Yuuri at his side, as Conrad and the other soldiers kept up their teasing banter while they walked up the hill. The spy took a deep breath. _Wow, did his timing ever suck_. He was _not _going to confess his love to Yuuri. He was just _not_ going to do that.

"Hey, Yuuri—did you still want to go fishing, you know, in a couple of months?" he asked.

"Of course I do!" The young man gave him a look that plainly said it was a silly question to ask. "I'm counting on it. Spending time just the two of us."

"Just the two of us?" the spy asked, softly.

"Yep. I wouldn't miss it. You're important to me, Yozak—more important than you know, I think."

"Yuuri, I—" he broke off as Conrad crested the hill. The tall soldier was still bantering with his subordinates, when he turned and gave Yuuri a small wave. Yozak watched as the king smiled, reached down to give his hand a reassuring squeeze and said, "Wish me luck, Yozak."

Confused, the orange-haired man turned to the Captain and shrugged lightly. Then he watched, his heart cracking at first, then breaking completely, as Shibuya Yuuri, twenty-seventh Maou of Shin Makoku drew his arm back and slapped Conrad Weller across the left cheek with a blow that rang out through the spring air.

--O.o.O—

"Yuuri," Conrad breathed, staring down at the young man who was looking at him with such hopeful eyes. "Yuuri, what are you doing?"

"Unless things have changed, I'm asking you to marry me, Conrad. In front of _a lot_ of people…" the boy said, blushing.

Not in his wildest dreams, had he ever imagined this. Conrad expected to be with Yuuri in some way for the rest of his life. He had imagined a long and happy life as lovers, but in some part of his brain he had always known that he would eventually lose the brilliant, beautiful boy. Perhaps that had been part of the reason he was so jealous of Wolfram in those days long past—the prince would have been able to be with Yuuri forever, had he been a better man. _A better man_. Inside, a small voice nagged at him. He wasn't good enough for Yuuri. He would never be good enough for Yuuri. Not like that. But how could he explain.

"Yuuri," he whispered, holding his cheek in his hand, in wonder. "I am your knight, your soldier…your lover. I walk behind you, Yuuri—behind and to the left…always."

"I want you to walk beside me," the king said softly, covering Conrad's large hand with his smaller one.

"You don't understand…"

"But I do. I really do. Gwendal explained everything to me—and I don't care."

"You can't be serious. This is some kind of joke, right? There's no way the Maou's going to marry a humongrel."

Yuuri turned his back on an astounded Conrad and looked at the group of soldiers there. Conrad watched the king assess the group. There were some looks of disbelief, and some looks of outright disgust. One of the soldiers, the one who'd spoken up, looked directly at Conrad, ignoring the Maou all together, and deliberately spat at his feet. He recognized the young man—a full-blooded Mazoku from a respectable family. Conrad sighed. The man's reaction was mild, accepting even, in comparison to what he knew Yuuri would face if he said yes.

"He's right, Yuuri. You can't marry me." Conrad said sadly, feeling the beautiful dream he'd been living for the past months come crashing around him. It had been an interlude…a sweet, precious moment in time, but there were some things that just were not done. Too much was riding on the slim shoulders of this Maou and Conrad would not be the one to destroy all the boy had worked for. Maybe he had already done what he was meant to do. Maybe he had been meant to help the Maou heal from what his brother had done. He had to have a purpose, didn't he? The thought of his life without Yuuri flashed before his eyes and he reeled. He was always with Yuuri, always by his side. What would happen now? He closed his eyes, pressing his lips together against the tears that were burning there, and turned his back. "If you marry me, all the good things you've worked for could be undone. You can't marry me."

"Who says I can't…?"

Conrad spun back around on his heel, so fast that he slipped and fell into Yozak's waiting grip. The voice…it was Yuuri's but it wasn't. It was the voice of the Maou. Conrad stared as his lover's hair lengthened and his eyes sharpened with a strange wisdom, but the knowledge there—the terrible knowledge that had at one time belonged in the eyes of this Maou alone—Conrad recognized as the sad wisdom his Yuuri's eyes had reflected after Wolfram left the country. He gasped. The Maou was back, yes, but his eyes—apart from the slitted pupils—were not strange. They were Yuuri's eyes, the same eyes that he saw before he fell asleep at night and the first thing he saw when he woke in the morning. It was as though the two beings were finally one…integrated.

"Yozak…?"

"I'm seeing it, Taichou…not sure if I believe it, but I'm seeing it." His best friend breathed, setting Conrad back on his feet. "I'm really not sure you want to piss him off. Just my opinion, of course."

"I asked you a question," the Maou said, his eyes narrowing on Conrad. "Who says I can't marry you…?"

Wind whipped around the tall soldier, and rain began to pelt the company. Black clouds rolled in along with the thunder, and above the din he heard Gunter's frantic shouts of "Heika!!" as the adjutant ran from the castle. He squared his shoulders, and stood away from Yozak, holding his hand out to prevent his older brother and Gunter from approaching any closer.

"I cannot marry you, Heika," Conrad said, mustering his courage and trying not to break down. "I love you more than my life, as well you know. I love you and always will, and if it were only you and I, then I would, even now, be in your arms. But, I am a half-breed Mazoku, and I cannot aspire to marry the king."

"Do you not trust me to protect you, Conrad Weller—the way I have always trusted you to protect me. This hatred between races, this prejudice against those innocent children who are born of the love between people wise enough to see past parentage—how will this ever change if we are never brave enough to act? Fear of your past, concern for the opinions of the narrow-minded are the shackles I would loose from our society and from your heart. I have always trusted my fierce lion to protect my life—can not my Conrad trust his king to protect his heart? It is not in my nature to force a man against his will, so, I will ask you one last time—Marry me and let justice finally be done."

"Are you an idiot, Taichou?" Yozak hissed in his ear. "What more do you want? What more can the boy do? Do you have _any_ idea how lucky you are?"

Moved to action, Conrad closed the distance between himself and the king. He stared into the young man's eyes, seeing everything he needed to in order to make his decision. The Maou knew very well what they would be facing, and Conrad now understood that he was wanted for simply the man that he had grown to be. He was wanted, needed, loved and cherished. Could he do less than return those feelings a hundred-fold?

"Yes, Heika…I will marry you."

The whipping winds died away and Conrad noticed a small, satisfied smirk on his fiancé's face before the boy stumbled into his arms—soaked with rain and smiling.

"It's Yuuri, Conrad. You might want to remember it."

"I'll try. You can remind me if I forget it," he mumbled, before closing his lips over the king's in a soft, lingering kiss. "I love you…Yuuri."

"I love you, too, Conrad."

Then, he lifted the king into his arms and carried him around the stables, across the courtyard, and into the castle. There would be time for explanations later, for wondered questions, for plans and for facing more adversity. For now, there was only the two of them—the brave soldier and his magnificent king—and, at least in the soldier's mind, only Conrad and Yuuri.

Later, many, many hours later, he would wake, stretch and yawn. Then, he would gather his lover in his arms, his most precious fiancé—the Maou—and wake him with soft kisses. The king, in his turn, would reach up to pull the soldier back down and their love would be made anew.

Purring deep in his chest, The Lion of Ruttenberg was finally content.

-Mostly, The End-

* * *

_And there you have it, my dears, except for the epilogue. Thank you for your kind reviews and I'm looking forward to hearing what you think of this one.…somehow, I have the feeling I will be shot…I will answer reviews in the epilogue, and of course by way of those little link things, just as soon as I can. You've been the best readers, ever. And, that, is absolutely non-fiction. Thank you again, so much…SN_


	10. Epilogue

_My dear readers, my friends. We're at the end. I'm sorry and pleased at the same time. And I don't want to waste time up here since I have written a lengthy end note. So, here's the wrap-up, I don't own KKM, and I'll see you at the bottom of the page…_

* * *

**Epilogue: A Spy in the House of Love**

Yozak Gurrier was a man for whom life held few surprises. This was not, as many supposed, because he was so full of experience that there was little he had never seen, although there was truth to this statement. It was because he was a man accustomed by training, circumstances, and his own nature to being alone. He stamped hope and desire out of his character as ruthlessly as he sometimes extracted information from informants in pursuit of his job. Therefore, when life brought about something unusual, or exciting, he was able to enjoy it for the few brief moments it might last. Perhaps it was this reason, as well as the calm solitude the action brought to him, that he enjoyed fishing so much.

And if he was man for whom wonder had little impact, then he was also a man for whom acceptance was simply a tool for living. He considered this as he packed his bags, preparing for his yearly vacation—those four days of silence with nothing but the wind, sun, water and if he was a little lucky, a few fish. He found himself looking forward to the trip, if only to release a little of the tension that had building in him since Yuuri-Heika had asked his best friend to marry him. He looked at the second fishing pole, leaning against the side of his horse's stall. He had intended to bring that one for Yuuri, but given the events of the past few weeks, he knew there would be no need. The young Maou was too busy to even consider leaving the castle for a few days. The spy hadn't taken the time to ask, of course. What would have been the point? Anyone could see that the King was swamped with social obligations since his engagement to Conrad Weller had been announced.

He smiled to himself. There had been, at first, a great deal of controversy over Shibuya Yuuri's choice of partner—just as he'd known there would be. It was true: For all that the king had done to stamp out the prejudice and lingering hatred between the two races, there were still many conservative hard-liners on both sides of the fence that objected to the match. The initial whispers had turned quickly into shouts of discontent. Conrad and Yuuri, however, had weathered the tide of disapproval with grace and fortitude. If there were hands working behind the scenes, well, Yozak didn't mind the occasional uncivilized negotiation. No one could argue, however, the peace and prosperity that Yuuri, in his role as Maou, had brought to Shin Makoku—it was that coupled with the strength of the people he'd surrounded himself with that had allowed the King to carry the day. Maybe people were still unhappy with the match—prejudice, after all, takes a great deal of effort to un-learn—but there did not seem to be violence looming in the future. For that, then, Yozak was grateful. Perhaps the two men that mattered most to him in the world would be allowed their happy ending. He could only assist in bringing that to pass as he was able.

"Sir? Gunter-sama has sent me to find you. They are asking for you in the main hall."

"Ah, well. Guess I better poke my pretty face in, then," Yozak replied with a cheer he didn't feel.

He really didn't want to attend the official engagement party.

But, he thought, shaking his head in resignation, he could never deny a request from his King. And he never would.

So, he made his way into Blood Pledge Castle, stopping first to speak to Gisela-Gunter's adopted daughter. They'd been friends a long time, though truth be known, more acquaintances now. She told him that her father had explained the return of the King's maryoku, and with it, the Maou was a result of Yuuri finally accepting what had happened to him and forgiving himself for it. When the young man had shut himself off from the world, choosing to keep his pain private and blaming himself for it, he had broken his internal connection to that part of himself that would always demand justice. Apparently, the Maou was now visiting Ulrike-sama weekly at Shinou's temple, learning to control his power which had somehow seemed to increase exponentially since the day he'd proposed to Conrad. Very few people actually knew the details of what had really transpired that caused the break-up of Sir Wolfram Von Bielefeld and Shibuya Yuuri—the official explanation being that they had mutually decided they were incompatible. Yozak detested the lie. He still wanted to string Wolfram up by his toes and flay him slowly for his abuse of the tender-hearted, beautiful man that was Yuuri.

Gwendal caught his arm next, cloistering him in a corner for a good twenty minutes explaining that he would be needed directly after his vacation to travel to Francshire and investigate these rumors of a militia forming in Dai Shimaron. Adelbert was there, and apparently Wolfram was somewhere nearby. Although the forbidding general would not admit it, Yozak suspected he was worried about his youngest brother. While Gwendal would never really forgive Wolfram for his actions, they were still family, and Yozak understood that. He'd heard that Wolfram had been beaten up pretty badly several times during his past year of travel, and in Yozak's opinion, those experiences would only do him good. Adelbert was more difficult to judge. Yozak had watched, from a hidden location, when the great warrior heard the whispered intelligence that Von Bielefeld's banishment had stemmed from some action against the King. That the man thought it was merely political differences was probably what saved Wolfram's life. Yozak neither admired nor agreed with Adelbert—in fact, he detested the arrogant bastard—but he did believe in Adelbert's remaining devotion to the vessel that carried his beloved Julia's soul. He considered…one word of the events that really transpired between Yuuri and Wolfram, and the blonde would no doubt meet his end on the edge of Adelbert's sword. Yozak was holding that trump card in case he ever needed to play it. For now, though, he would merely watch the youngest of Cheri-sama's children and see if the brat could one day become a Mazoku to be respected.

Yozak passed the refreshment table, stopping to share a glass of punch with Greta. She was eager to tell him all about her adventures with Cheri-sama as they sailed the high seas. She said that she had many letters from her Papa Wolfram and that he was working hard to find what had been lost. She said, too, that she had helped her adoptive grandmother with growing flowers aboard the ship and she pointed to a basket on the table. The large blooms, which looked like a cross between a rose and a violet, had deep purple flowers with tips so dark they almost looked black. He leaned down, at the girl's insistence, and sniffed. Their perfume was gentle, understated, but very pleasing. Then he was told that they were called "_Resiliant Yuuri's Infinite Heart_." He smiled, the slightly sad twist of the corner of his mouth lost on the princess who was so proud of the flowers. She pressed one into his hand. He stared at it for a moment and tucked it into his breast pocket. Then she told him that her Daddy Yuuri had cried for twenty minutes when Cheri-sama presented them to him. _Just like Yuuri_, the spy thought.

Finally, after he had pressed as many hands as had been held out to him, chattered with the other well-wishers concerning the future happiness of the royal couple, and speculated on how many children the union might produce—because it was already known that Princess Greta wanted another adopted brother or sister right away—Yozak stepped out onto the balcony to enjoy a brief moment of respite. His face hurt from wearing his genial smile for so long. He leaned against the railing, supporting his weight on his forearms—his hands clasped together, and stared out into the distance, seeing nothing in particular. _Oh, Yuuri_, he thought. _I'm never going to get over you, am I?_

"There you are. I've been looking for you."

Yozak closed his eyes and wished, fervently, to disappear. The last person he wanted to see right now was the Taichou.

"You found me, Captain."

His captain, his best friend, his ex-lover, and the fiancé of the man Yozak loved came to stand beside him, adopting a twin pose at the railing.

"Congratulations, Conrad," Yozak said, sincerely. "I am honestly happy for you. You've loved him for a long time, and I'm so glad you're finally together."

"I have," Conrad replied, his voice soft. "I have loved him from the moment I met him, maybe even before. I think you fell in love with him almost as quickly, certainly by the time we'd left Bandarbia Island with Morgif."

Yozak's heart simply stopped beating, or at least it felt like it did. He struggled to breathe. He tried shaking his head, but he just ended up sighing. He couldn't deny it.

"Has it been so obvious?"

He felt the captain's warm hand on his shoulder. He wanted to shrug it off, a small part of him rebelling against the other man's endless kindness. He didn't want to be pitied, he wanted to be loved! But he couldn't. Because he loved Conrad, too, even if it was a different flavor of the emotion these days.

"I've seen you in a thousand different situations and in a thousand different lights. I think I know you pretty well. I remember when you loved me at one time, too. But in all the years we were together, you never looked at me the way you look at him sometimes. And no, it's not obvious. Not at all. But who else would understand more than me? I've loved him in secret for all this time. I think I can recognize a kindred spirit."

"I'm so sorry," Yozak whispered. "I've never tried to interfere, Conrad. I never would. I just…"

"…love him and you can't explain why?" His friend finished for him.

Yozak nodded his head, feeling lower than the lowest snake in the garden.

"Don't apologize, my dear, dear friend. I understand, you know, better than you think. Loving Yuuri is something that happens whether you want it to, or not. He is the sun for all of us, I think, and we need him to survive."

"You don't hate me?" Yozak finally turned to gauge Conrad's expression. He saw nothing there but understanding and affection.

"I never could. Besides, we all owe you a great debt."

"Me? Why?"

"Without your love and guidance, Yozak, Yuuri might not have ever forgiven himself, and found his way back to the Maou inside of him. We talk a lot, you know. He told me some of the things you've talked with him about. I owe all my happiness to you—don't try to deny it. I do. And I could never thank you enough."

"What are friends for?" Yozak replied, relying on his humor to get his point across.

"You've been my friend for more years than I can count," Conrad said as he reached out to embrace the handsome spy. "And I will always love you," he whispered in Yozak's ear. "Thank you for making this possible for me. Thank you."

"I love you both," Yozak whispered back. "And I want you both to be happy. I mean that."

"I know you do." Conrad straightened and between the men a look of complete understanding was exchanged. "Are you getting ready to go somewhere? I heard that you were."

"Yeah. I am going fishing. If you don't mind, I'd like to get going. I just…need some time."

"Be safe," Conrad said. "You carry precious cargo."

Yozak just nodded and turned to go. It took him another half hour to get through the crowd of people, and an additional half hour to escape Gunter's overly dramatic soliloquy concerning the magnificence of everything Yuuri. By the time he reached the barn, he thought his head might explode, since his heart was certainly threatening to implode in his chest. However, he was able to calm himself, checking his packs one last time. As he turned to leave, he saw a familiar shape illuminated in the afternoon sun. Standing in the doorway, clutching a couple of lumpy bags, stood the Maou.

"Where are you going?" the boy asked, his eyes wide.

"It's my vacation time, Kiddo," he replied, his voice filled with its usual booming cheer. "Aren't you supposed to be at your party?"

The king's lips twisted into an annoyed smirk, making Yozak laugh with the first mirth he'd felt since the fateful slap heard around Shin Makoku.

"Ugh, did you go to that thing? I swear, I think I'm going to scream if one more person corners me and asks me what I'm going to wear. But, more importantly, why are you leaving?"

"I thought I just explained that…fishing." Yozak cocked his head to the side.

"Well, yeah…" The king looked down at his shoes. "But, you said we could go together. I packed all my things and everything, and Conrad said he'd cover for me, so we could slip away unnoticed. But…I don't get it. Were you going to leave without me? Did you change your mind? I mean…It's just that I thought…"

"Yuuri," Yozak whispered, then cleared his throat trying to dislodge the lump that had stuck there. The powerful king was still, sometimes, just a boy. "I didn't change my mind. Not at all. I understand that you're really busy now, and I didn't think you would still want to come."

"You're my friend." The Maou said simply. "And we made a promise."

"But what about the wedding plans—the ceremony is next week, isn't it?"

The boy nodded. "Yeah, but Conrad says it's tradition that the bridegrooms not see each other for seven days before the actual ceremony, so, this works out, too. If I'm not here, then I can't see him. I think it's a stupid tradition, but, even if it wasn't something like that, I'd still go with you. This is our thing…right? I mean, I thought we were going to do this every year. Unless you don't want to?"

Yozak Gurrier, daring spy and loyal retainer, looked down at his king and smiled. He knew very well there was no such pre-marital tradition in Shin makoku—this was all the Taichou's doing. "It's definitely our thing, Kiddo. And I wouldn't miss it for the world. I'll help you get Ao ready, and the second pole is right here. If we work together, we can be out of here in less than ten minutes."

"Ok," Yuuri agreed, grinning that grin that always made Yozak's heart melt. "I'm so glad I caught you! I wouldn't have if Gunter hadn't already packed most of my stuff."

"Well, let's not have his excellency's efforts go to waste."

Within minutes, the Maou of Shin Makoku and his bodyguard were mounted on their horses, gear packed, and chatting away about nothing in particular and everything of importance—leaving Blood Pledge Castle at a leisurely pace. Turning back in his saddle, to take a last look at the castle before they left through the gates, Yozak saw Gwendal, Gunter and Conrad standing on the balcony outside the reception room. Conrad lifted his hand in a silent farewell, and Yozak understood what his friend had been talking about before. He did, indeed, carry precious cargo with him…and he would lay down his life to return Yuuri to his fiancé's side if that's what he was called upon to do. But, this was going to be a pleasure trip, with three added days of peace and enjoyment. Of all the gifts Yozak had ever received in his life—this was by far the best.

**-Really, really, the end-**

* * *

Rather lengthy author's note:

_Wow. It's the end. I can't quite believe it, but here we are, really, at the end. I hope this epilogue answered a few of the lingering questions anyone may have had, and I wanted to take the time to answer a few things in this note._

_First, How can I thank you for reading this story? It would be impossible for me to truly tell you how much it means to me that so many of you read and remained interested in a tale that certainly doesn't seem to fit the usual bill of fare. I am glad, so very glad, that so many of you were willing to accept Wolfram in a different role than the one he traditionally is cast in. And, Scyth, let me point out here that I was shocked, and really nonplussed when you honed right in on my choice of Adelbert as a route for information from Yuuri. The reason I chose him above anyone else, or an original source of info, was because I wanted to let Yozak have that little tidbit to say about unleashing Adelbert if Wolfram got out of line. I also kind of wanted the threat to linger, because the consequences of actions can be extremely long-reaching and perhaps something that Wolfram, as I thought of him, should have been thinking about all along._

_Also, Strega and Twitty, you were so careful in your reading and I am so glad that you enjoyed the supporting character storylines as much as the primary plot line. When I write, I write chapters before I answer reviews. I write with a plot idea in my head, with certain details that I know will come out, and then, as I write, I try to listen to what characters, whether original or borrowed as in fanfic, would really say. That's what helps me flesh things out. So, I knew, for example, that Yozak would be the character that would help reveal Yuuri's abuse. I also knew that there would be an affection for Yuuri in his make-up, but, as I was writing, even though he is not my creation, his character in my story started to take over. It was very hard to rein him in, and the epilogue only made sense from his point of view (as I was writing it). I wish there had been some way for me to give him as strong a happy ending as Yuuri and Conrad's, but he was destined for bittersweetness from the beginning, I think. So, sad. It hurt me to write it._

_And how can I thank you regular reviewers? Sillvog, Mintyflake, Huneycup, C. Reed, crsg, and sweetsally—I am honored, really, that you spent time corresponding with me through reviews and the story as well. I'm not easily described as a greedy person, so, when I have been able to answer questions, or have a dialogue, I probably learn more than anyone. Your reviews were so helpful, and really kept me motivated. I mean, can anyone turn down chocolate mint cookies? I think not. I can't believe this story garnered so many reviews from you all and others, too. Amazing to me, really! Thank you, thank you, thank you. And if I missed anyone by name, or have missed a review, just let me know--please. :-)  
_

_Finally, now that we're all done, I thought I would share with you the structure I used as the basis for my premise that Wolfram has the ability to be someone who could turn to abuse. At work, we look for these signals…and they are available for research on the net, too._

_1. Quick involvement- the perpetrator pushes for a commitment or major event to occur very early in the relationship. Wolfram insists on the accidental engagement, and very early on begins to assert his authority as Yuuri's fiancé (I'm talking about the anime)_

_2 Isolation –the perpetrator begins asking you to spend less time with your friends and family and more time with him. You end up no longer maintaining close relationships with friends or family members. (How many times does Wolfram complain about Yuuri going home, or spending time with others as he's a cheating wimp?)_

_3. Suggestions for change- the perpetrator has lots of suggestions on how you can improve your appearance, behavior etc. You begin to make changes solely based on these suggestions. (Wolfram, in the anime and books, is constantly nagging Yuuri about his unkingly behavior.)_

_4. Controlling behaviors- the perpetrator influences your decisions on hobbies, activities, dress, friends, daily routines etc. You begin to make fewer and fewer decisions without the perpetrator's opinion or influence. (Yuuri is always giving in on these things with Wolfram. And who wants to pose for portraits made out of bearbee poop anyway?)_

_5. Information gathering and pop-ins – the perpetrator wants to know the specific details of your day and rarely leaves you alone when you are not with him, such as when you are at work or out with friends. (Yeah, like Yuuri could get on a boat without Wolfie?)_

_6. Any forms of abuse – the perpetrator may use name calling, intimidation, humiliation, shoving, pushing or other forms of abuse to get you to do whatever they want you to do. (Um, this is self-explanatory, ne?)_

_Now, I know this is not how Wolfram is portrayed in the anime, and I'm not really a wolfram hater, but, I thought these were interesting and kept them in mind as I was writing._

_So, that's it then…I guess until I get the next one started. I really, really thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it. I'll be answering linked reviews soon as I can. I just want to get this posted before it gets too late. I am truly grateful, and thankful, too. See ya in the next story! --SN_


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